


Amidst the Wreckage (Anchor My Life With Hope)

by sanva



Series: Life Mates [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, F/M, Homophobia, M/M, Mates, Minor Character Death, Soul Bond, religious themes and references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-22 03:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 33,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanva/pseuds/sanva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Epictetus once said, “A ship should not ride on a single Anchor, nor life on a single hope.”   Due to the Ori incursion into the Milky Way Galaxy, the IOA decides to send an expedition to Atlantis, not as a purely scientific mission, but as a colony.  After the death of his mate, John Sheppard had been assigned to McMurdo to wait out Widow Syndrome, but unlike most people he doesn’t die.  Instead, he ends up at a top secret alien made outpost and mated to Doctor Rodney McKay who, despite prejudice, managed to gain the position of chief scientist for the proposed Atlantis expedition.  What no one expected was to find an enemy worse than the Ori and humans believe that artificially inducing Mating might be a way to break free of the Wraith once and for all . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Homophobia and Religious themes are in reference to the culture of this alternate universe and the alternate reality Church that is expounded on more in my other fics. I apologize if anything doesn't fully make sense, I tried to make this fic stand alone due to alternate fandoms however.
> 
> Also: minor character death, ages of characters fiddled with along with certain aspects of character histories, and the Stargate program
> 
> This was my first and only SGA fic (unless I wrote a drabble I don't remember), so fair warning.
> 
> This should have been posted almost two years ago, in the fall of 2011 of the SGA bigbang. I owe huge apologies to everyone involved in that, including my artist for never posting. Life took a turn and I missed the posting and then I got to rereading it and decided I abhored the ending and didn't feel I could post it. Plus with a new job and working overtime the lack of free time I didn't have the time to do anything for a rather long time. Enough with the stupid excuses I thought I should actually post this.
> 
> I also didn't get this beta-ed either . . . so all mistakes are mine and mine alone.
> 
> I reread 'The Word of Us' and its sequel (Supernatural RPS) a short while ago and thought I should get around to posting this. For the curious they don't just have the same world building, but take place within the same world in my mind. However I don't have any plans to mix the two groups of characters. In fact the only characters that even could bear a mention by Stargate characters involves Lindsay and thusly Chris and Steve. Timeline wise this takes place between the Word of Us and its sequel.
> 
> As to this fic . . . I'll add to the tags as I edit and post the remaining parts. Should be about four or maybe five in total. The original version had four. The fic is mostly completed but the final part is going over some major overhauling to make me willing to post it.

_The air was dry, full of dust from the millennia old sand that surrounded them.  John’s helicopter had gone down about a quarter mile from Holland’s crash site, probably taken down by the same people that knocked his mate out of the sky.  Somehow John managed to make his way across the desert without getting shot by the people who brought him down._

_It was easy for him to find Charlie, not just due to the obvious signs of the downed helicopter in the distance, but waves of pain pulsed across their bond leading John straight to him.  There was no way that John wouldn’t have been able to find him.  Once at the crash site, he attempted to avoid an enemy combatant.  John couldn’t though; there were too few places to take cover.  He felt no remorse as several bullets tore through the man, knocking him down into the sand and rocks, blood forming tiny rivers as John stumbled past him._

_“Charlie?”  John hissed out as he reached the wreckage.  His eyes were roving over the damage, assessing it for any signs of being unstable and searching for his mate. His body was thrumming with agony, pinpricks of pain teasing tendrils across his nerves that weren’t his own but were reflections of the pain his mate was going through._

_A harsh cough from the other side of the helicopter had him rushing, carefully, around it.  His training barely kept him from stumbling over the body of another soldier as his eyes observed the surrounding area.  The last thing he wanted to do was leave himself open to attack.  John wanted to save his mate,_ not _end up getting himself and Charlie killed in the process._

_As his eyes found Charlie’s body, his insides went cold.  His mate’s uniform was stained with blood, covered in dust and a darker fluid that had likely leaked from the helicopter.  Surveying the area, John decided that Charlie had suitable cover where he was and slid to his knees next to him, gun ready but not up._

_Charlie Holland’s eyes slit open and he squinted up at John.  “Shep?” he croaked.  The sound of his dry throat had John pulling a small canteen of water out of his vest._

_He helped his mate take a small sip and smiled a little, just a slight uplift of the corners of his mouth. “That’s me.”_

_“What’re you doin’ here?” Charlie slurred as John pulled the canteen away.  His finger brushed the edge as he screwed it shut and came away with pink tinged droplets smeared through dirt._

_“I wasn’t about to let you have all the fun.”  John began a cursory check of the other man, doing his best to survey the damage wrought by the crash.  “Did you get shot up, too, or just your bird?”_

_Charlie’s nose crinkled up and he coughed a bit.  “Got all this in the crash,” he paused, head tilting to look to the side, “Mitch and Dex didn’t make it . . .?”  It was somewhere between a question and a statement._

_John pursed his lips and ran a hand over Charlie’s forehead before setting his palm against a stubbled cheek. “They went out doing their job. Just like they always said they would.”  They had, too.  Mitch and Dex had lived life to the fullest.  They were as open about their status as any military pair could be. He knew they planned on staying in the service for life.  Time and time again they’d said unless the world changed drastically to allow them to be as free in civilian life as they were as soldiers, they’d be fighting until some sonnuvabitch took them out or they were old and grey._

_Charlie managed to chuckle a little, specks of blood appearing on his lip. “Your crew? Got any back up comin’?” he asked, frowning.  “Thought the colonel grounded you.”_

_John winced as he dug through the few medical supplies he had and began to try and patch up his mate.  “Just me. Technically I’m still grounded . . . and you should have been, too.”  And he probably would be indefinitely if they survived this.  There was no way he’d be getting out of this without a black mark and maybe a court martial.  He didn’t care about that, though.  As long as they survived even getting kicked out of the military wouldn’t ruin his day._ If _they survived, which considering how bad Charlie looked it was starting to seem less and less likely._

_“Had to follow orders,” Charlie sighed. “Gonna get us kicked out.”_

_“Probably.”  He leaned his head down and pressed their foreheads together for a moment as he began to work on stemming the blood flow the best he could that was running from the worst wound.  “But right now I don’t really care. We just got to get out of here alive, all right?”_

_Holland was quiet for a long moment as John worked.  Emotions thrummed between them, a wild wave that was too mixed up to pick out any one emotion outside of the obvious_ lovecare _that always flowed between them._

_“John?” Charlie’s voice was small, tired, and dry._

_“Yeah, Charlie?”_

_“I’m sorry, John . . . I don’t think I’m going to make it,” he paused, lips pulling into a small, sad smile. “Thanks for coming . . . I didn’t think I’d see you again.”_

 

 

 

 

Antarctica was simultaneously the best place he had ever served and the worst.  John had been there for just shy of six months, the first three of which had been spent being poked, prodded, and examined by dozens of doctors.  The number of _doctors_ filtering through McMurdo for various research stations was a bit startling.  Their purpose for being there was classified above his pay grade, however, so John wasn’t asking too many questions.

 

After a while the number tapered off to just a small handful of doctors that took turns prodding him and taking blood samples a few times a week.  At least they had taken the time to clear him to start flying again a month back; losing the sky and Charlie at the same time had been horrible.  The sky had been the only place he’d felt truly at home since his parents died, until he ran into Charlie on a tarmac during his second deployment.

 

John had been past the age most of his peers had mated and, although intellectually he knew it was possible from experience his time in the Air Force, he’d also been surprised to find himself drawn to another man—m _ated_ to a member of the same sex.  Growing up his family, while not extremely religious, had certainly observed the basic beliefs of  The Word.  He’d gone to private schools and they tended to teach more to religion then science—not, as most claimed, that there was much of a difference in either public or private school education on the subjects.  However, the idea that he personally would mate with another man had just never crossed his mind, even after serving with dozens of same-sex pairs.

 

Even without everyone’s eyes on him, John could still feel the disbelief and anger others felt for him.  By all accounts he should be dead and in all honesty most of the time John wished he was.  No one out lived their mate, not by more than a few days.  That was another rule stated explicitly in The Word that he’d memorized as a child.  It was also an observable _fact._

 

The point had been brought home when his mother was killed, along with his unborn sibling—no one had ever told him if it was a boy or a girl—in a car accident when he was twelve.  His father died the instant his mother had, slumping forward and sliding from the back of the chestnut mare he’d been riding, right in front of John. That was the last time John had ridden a horse.  He had been relieved when he and his older brother, Dave, had been sent to live with his mother’s parents.  They didn’t have the wealth his father’s family did and they certainly didn’t have horses.

 

But he had survived Charlie’s death.  He was a fluke and each day he lived with the empty space in his mind and soul that Charlie used to inhabit.  It wasn’t painful, at least not jarringly so.  There was the dull ache of a missing limb and he still hadn’t broken the habit of reaching out to his mate at random points during the day.  Each habitual attempt left his insides cold and aching.

 

He sighed and pushed a half empty plate away from him and stared down at the papers he was going over.  Being mostly grounded—he was still relegated to hauling supplies and ferrying waste from the more top secret locations—had meant the base commander tended to give him a lot more paper work to go through then he’d usually have.

 

“Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, right?”

 

John looked up and started at the sight of a brigadier general standing on the other side of his table.  He scrambled to attention, cursing himself for not paying more attention to his surroundings.  Before losing Holland no one had ever managed to get the drop on him since special ops training.

 

The general rolled his eyes and rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets.  “I’ll take that as a yes.”  His eyes trailed over John, the stack of papers, and the half empty food tray on the table.  “Is there something wrong with the chicken?”

 

“Just not hungry, sir,” John said relaxing as the general, Jack O’Neill according to his jacket, motioned for him to relax.  “The cook is actually pretty good.  The beef dishes are his specialty.  And the pie’s excellent.”

 

“Huh.  I’ll have to snag a slice on the way back stateside.”  Jack eyed him for a moment before glancing at his watch.  “I need a pilot to take me out to one of the bases.”

 

“Captain Markham has ferry duty today.  I can check his schedule if you’d like?” John asked.  He wondered why O’Neill had approached him about it.  Monitoring the flight schedule wasn’t directly his duty.

 

“I saw, but I thought you might like to get off the base.”

 

“Sir?”  John’s hands clenched slightly.  “I’m not cleared for passengers.”  He wondered how the general could have missed that.  His presence and situation was certainly well known among the brass.  It was the only thing that had saved him from being given a dishonorable discharge—that and the Colonel who had sent Holland, Mitch, and Dex out without him had violated the regs in doing so.  Mated pairs who were both military stuck together on the same op always.  It meant one mission going bad wouldn’t end up in the failure of another.

 

Jack raised an eyebrow and pulled a folded paper out of his pocket.  He set it down in front of John on the table so he could clearly see what was written on it.

 

“I just cleared you. Helicopter’s on the pad and warmed up.  Meet me out there in five or I’ll be very cranky.” Jack stated and then paused, beginning to turn away.  “You wouldn’t want me to get cranky, now, would you?”

 

 

 

 

 

_The heat of the day was slowly cooling as the sun drifted across the skyline towards the horizon.  The sky was already greying, the bright colors of sunset felt distinctly out of place to John as he stumbled through the desert, trying to support the near dead weight of his mate at his side._

_He hated the situation, but there hadn’t been any other choice but to leave Mitch and Dex’s bodies at the crash site.  John hoped someone would be able to retrieve them later and that their bodies wouldn’t be too badly mutilated and decayed.   A sharp stab of pain had him stumbling forward and sliding down against a slope of sand, rocks, and dry vegetation.  He caught site of a scorpion skittering away at the noise he’d made._

_Charlie slumped against the dirt, breath coming out in ragged wet puffs.  “Hurts.  Hurts bad, Shep.”_

_“I know, Charlie. I know,” he said, eyes scanning the area before sliding down next to his mate.  John reached across the bond, trying to bolster Charlie with his own energy and emotions._

_“Stop it.”  Charlie pulled away from him, mentally and physically.  His hand drifted up to the wound in his side, the worst of his injuries._

_“If it’ll get us out of here I’m not going to,” John replied and reached out to grab Charlie’s chin.  He forced the other man to look him in the eye.  “We’re going to get out of here. We’ll get drunk, grieve for Mitch and Dex, and go visit your family for Celebration.”_

_Charlie smiled a little bit at that.  “Always planning ahead,” he coughed a little, “’cept when it comes to risking your life.”_

_“Got to have something to look forward to,” John replied and pressed his lips against Charlie’s briefly, “otherwise there is no reason to take risks.”_

 

 

 

 

 

Only one of the flight crew protested as John climbed into the helicopter and started going through preflight as O’Neill got situated next to him.  For his part the general just looked down at his uniform where it clearly stated his name and rank, tapping it with a finger.

 

Jack grinned and raised an inquiring eyebrow.  “And what does it say on your uniform?”

 

As they took to the sky John relaxed, letting the hum of the helicopter and his instincts guide him towards their destination.  It was like coming home and for just a few moments he was able to ignore the dull, aching loss of Holland.

 

“I hear you lost your mate,” the general bluntly stated a few minutes into the flight.

 

John’s jaw clenched and his fingers tightened around the controls.  “Yes, sir, I did.”  After a few tense, long moments of silence he glanced over to see O’Neill looking at him expectantly.

 

 

 

 

 

_“Stop.”  Charlie’s voice was laced with pain and something John wasn’t sure he wanted to identify.  They had enough cover for the moment, though, so he helped his mate lower to the ground to rest._

_“I needed a break, anyway.”  John smiled tightly.  “I was getting a little tired myself.”_

_“Liar.”  Charlie squinted up at John his pale face sobering.  “I’m not going to make it.”_

_“Yes, you are.”_

_Holland shook his head, eyes drifting shut before opening slightly again.  “It’s too much. So cold . . .”_

_“Don’t you dare leave me!”  John grasped his hand tightly his other hand setting against his mate’s cheek.  “It’s not time for us to go. We have Celebration with your family and that stupid play you wanted to see—” A rush of love and a myriad of other emotions slammed into him across the bond as Charlie’s body relaxed.  “—there’s still so much for us to do. We still have to—we have to—” A sob cut him off and distantly John realized he was crying._

_In that instant he felt Charlie slip away from him, his presence at the back of his mind tearing away and leaving a gaping hole.  It felt like a piece of himself was gone, dead.  Charlie’s fingers went slack in his and he clenched his fingers tighter around his mate’s lax ones in an attempt to make up for it._

_John felt ill, but swallowed the bile down.  He was cold and alone . . . so very alone.  But, for the moment, he was still alive.  He closed his eyes briefly and leaned down to press a kiss against his mate’s forehead.   He still had a job to do and he would do it to the best of his ability.  His last duty, the duty of a widowed mate, was to get himself and his mate home before he would follow Charlie._

“Nine months ago almost, sir.”

 

O’Neill nodded and looked away, staring out on the long planes, hills, and mountains of white that made up the southernmost continent.  “Hurt like a sonnuvabitch for days, didn’t it?”

 

“Still does,” John tried not to let his emotions bleed through in his reply.

 

“But not quite as badly as it did. It is duller now, isn’t it?” O’Neill asked and John looked over at him.

 

“How do you know?” John asked, swallowing hard.

 

“My wife and mate, Sarah, was killed by a robber nine years ago.”  O’Neill looked away and John turned his attention back to the controls in an attempt to make it easier for the general to tell his story.  “I felt it halfway across the globe on a mission.  My son was in my parent-in-law’s custody by the time I got home as it was a black ops mission.” John was surprised; most soldiers in black ops had mates that were in the service as well.  “The robber took my mate and an unborn child from me and the system took my son for almost two years.”

 

John didn’t know how to respond to that.  He remembered how the system worked, though, as he’d been through it.  Any singles were generally considered unfit guardians just on the basis that they lacked a mate. The system also didn’t recognize same-sex mates—claimed they didn’t exist—which was another reason why most military same-sex couples stayed in the service for life.

 

For couples like him and Charlie, however, support systems had been created behind the scenes to enable same-sex mated couples to ally with a pair of the opposite gender and form a family that the system would recognize.  At least they had that, singles that didn’t have same-sex partners were widely persecuted in the civilian world. The fact that O’Neill had survived the death of his mate had probably brought into question the veracity of his claims of being mated to Sarah in the first place.

 

“How did you survive?” Since Charlie’s death John had stopped making plans. He didn’t want to think about living without Charlie for nine years.

 

“At first I kept going because Sarah would have wanted me to.  She would have told me that I survived for a reason and kicked my ass back to the living if I’d laid down and died or taken my own life.” Jack cleared his throat.  “And then I met Sam.  Captain Samantha Carter,” he clarified, “and my life started coming back together.”

 

John looked over at him, shock coursing through his system.  “You mated . . . again?”

 

“Shocking, isn’t it?”

 

John nodded. “Why us do you think, sir? Why’d we survive—”

 

“When others haven’t?” O’Neill interrupted him and shrugged. “The doc’s seem to think they might have an idea.”

 

“They do?” It was news to him and he’d been poked and prodded and bled for months.  Not once had anyone acted like they had any idea why he’d lived after Charlie passed.

 

“Well,” O’Neill paused and gave him a wry look, “one of the geneticists does. It’s the main reason I’m having you fly out with me. They want to talk to you about it.”

 

“Oh.” So this flight probably was a special case . . . either that or it had finally been determined that he wasn’t suddenly going to drop dead from widow syndrome.

 

“I also know how much it sucks to be grounded,” O’Neill smiled tightly at him. He didn’t offer an explanation, but John didn’t think he needed one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The rest of the flight went smoothly and was rather quick.  John tried not to dwell on the information O’Neill had given him, especially regarding mating again.  He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to consider the possibility of finding another mate.  Charlie’s absence was still raw and he couldn’t imagine another presence filling that void.

 

O’Neill stopped him with a hand on his arm before he could climb out of the helicopter after landing. “I didn’t tell you this to worry you or make you feel guilty.”

 

“Guilty?”  John frowned.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Sure you don’t.”  Jack sighed.  “If and when you do mate again, it won’t be like it was.” He smiled slightly, reminiscing. “Your new mate won’t replace the old . . . but they will complete you just as much as your last did.”

 

John looked way and opened the hatch, hoping out.

 

Jack met him on the other side and made to continue but John interrupted him before he could.

 

“Sir, I just don’t think I’m ready to consider the possibility of—considering the possibilities quite yet.”

 

Jack turned away, and motioned towards the building John had never been in before. He supposed it was the one where all the top secret work was being done.  “Let’s get out of the cold.  My mate will have my ass if I get frost bite. She’ll probably think I’m trying to get out of diaper duty.”

 

“Diaper duty?” John couldn’t help but ask.

 

Jack grinned at him. “Newborn daughter . . . it’s long story that for the next five minutes is above your clearance level.”

 

John blinked and frowned. Five minutes? “And after that, sir?”

 

“Then I’ll only tell you if I _really_ like you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

A long elevator had taken them deep into the ice.  The room they came out in was chilly, not quite as cold as it had been outside, but still cold enough that fleece, jackets, and gloves were present on almost everyone. Most people he saw had pink tinged noses and cheeks from the cold as well.  He pulled one glove off and rubbed at his temple, the conversation he’d had with the general seemed to have brought on a headache.  It was steadily worsening as well, probably due to prolonged exposure to the cold.

 

The general was pulled away from him by two men around John’s age when they exited the lift. The first was obviously a scientist of some sort while the second John wasn’t entirely sure about.  John thought he might be from the Middle East, but he couldn’t quite place the accent.

 

“O’Neill!” The man had greeted the general with a hug. O’Neill had smiled at him, pulling away slightly to look at him, grinning as he surveyed the obvious pair. “How are Samantha and little Shari?” the man asked stumbling a little over the second name.

 

“They’re doing great.” Jack assured him and then cleared his throat. “Skaara, Daniel,” he motioned towards John, “Lt. Col. John Sheppard.”

 

Skaara smiled at him and saluted before shaking his hand and stepping back next to Daniel.  It didn’t take John more than a few seconds to realize they were mates.  It never took long for him to identify pairs—even those that were trying to hide their status.

 

“Lt. Col. . . . oh!” Daniel exclaimed and looked John. He squinted behind his glasses, eyes examining John like he was some sort of specimen, assessing him for something.

 

“Daniel.” Jack stated, drawing the man’s attention.

 

“Jack.”

 

“Daniel.” Jack raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in John’s direction.

 

“Oh!” Daniel turned back to John. Smiling he held out his hand. “Doctor Daniel Jackson.”

 

“The geneticist?” John asked glancing at O’Neill as he shook Daniel’s hand.

 

Jack laughed at that and shook his head.

 

 “No,” Daniel raised an eyebrow at Jack who shrugged. “Linguist and Archaeologist, actually.”

 

“Ah.”  John had to wonder exactly what was so different about his DNA that an anthropologist looked as if he wanted to put him under a microscope.

 

“Jack,” Daniel turned back to the general, “Doctor Weir and I have something we need to talk to you about.”

 

“It can’t wait?” O’Neill asked, already sighing with annoyance.

 

“It’s big.” He glanced at John and then back to Jack.

 

“I gave him clearance on the way down.” Jack waved away the unasked question.

 

Daniel smiled again and nodded to himself.  “Ancient big. We think we have a way to get to the city.”

 

“All right.” Jack turned to Sheppard and motioned around the room. “Look around but don’t touch anything or get in anyone’s way.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

The outpost was a collection of rooms made out of a mix of futuristic looking walls and ice.  There were portions of the walls where the metal alloys gave way to ice that was just beginning to be carved out by high quality equipment that John didn’t think he’d ever seen before.  Most of the technology on display and being studied was unlike anything he’d ever seen before as well. He knew better than to question exactly what it all was . . . and where it had come from.  If he was cleared to know—and O’Neill said he was cleared for everything down here—then someone would tell him eventually.

 

“Do you have clearance to be down here?”  A man with a British accent asked, eyeing him skeptically from where he was examining some sort of yellow squid looking thing.

 

“Uh, yeah.”  John nodded, glancing in the direction the general had disappeared to. “General O’Neill gave it to me on the way down.”

 

The man raised an eyebrow.  “You must be the air force lieutenant colonel Beckett and McKay were discussing.”

 

“Probably.” John was pretty sure he remembered a doctor with a Scottish accent named Beckett poking him and drawing immense amounts of blood over the past few months. The other name didn’t ring a bell, but then he’d been faced with so many ‘experts’ that he’d lost track of names and faces. “Lt. Col. John Sheppard.”

 

“Doctor Peter Grodin.” Peter lifted the tools in his hand up as an excuse to avoid shaking hands.  “O’Neill didn’t assign someone to show you around?”

 

He shook his head. “Nope.  Dr. Jackson and . . . Skaara dragged him off to some meeting about a city the moment we got down here.  He didn’t really have a chance to tell me anything other than to keep my hands to myself.”

 

“Well, that’s probably a good idea.” Peter glanced around the room and then pointed towards another room.  “You were supposed to be meeting with Dr. Beckett. I believe he’s in there going over some equipment.  He’d probably be glad to have you alone for some testing before the general and Dr. McKay get a hold of you.”

 

“Is he the geneticist?” John asked glancing in the direction Peter motioned to.

 

Peter blinked. “Yes. He’s the one that figured out the correlation between . . . well . . .” he trailed off awkwardly.

 

“My survival,” John stated bluntly.  Considering Dr. Grodin knew about his situation, he doubted there were many people here that didn’t.

 

“Ah, yes.” Peter winced, lips pressed together and he attempted to smile. His dark eyes glanced towards where he thought Dr. Beckett was and back to the device he was examining.

 

No one ever quite knew what to say to him now.  The doctors he’d seen at least tended to have a script they went through—the medical ones, anyway—asking a questions and doing their best to be clinical about the issue. Everyone else, especially other soldiers, tended to fumble their way through conversations with him, always looking awkward unless standing at attention.

 

“I’ll go see if I can locate Dr. Beckett.”  John didn’t quite rush, but he left rather quickly figuring he should leave Grodin to his work.

 

A young marine eyed him, glancing down at his name tag as he passed by. His eyes widened slightly before he steeled his expression and turned his attention back to the room at large.  He was carrying what looked like a short assault rifle, but the magazine was glowing red at the end. John made a note of his name and rank, Lt. Ford, and idly wondered exactly what went on here that would necessitate armed guards in the midst of scientists—not just at the entrances and exits.

 

He passed by an odd alcove and entered a wide room with an even stranger chair situated at the center on a lighted pedestal.  One of the doctors he remembered—the Scottish one so he was probably Beckett—was seated in the chair.  As he neared the small group of scientists milling around him, watching both the Dr. and equipment, the hum that was the headache at the back of his mind deepened.  It had a strange quality to it, John was realizing, that set it apart from any of the other headaches he’d had throughout his lifetime.

 

“Just think about the solar system,” a woman of Asian descent—she sounded Japanese to John—was saying. “Focus on the planetary bodies and their orbits.”

 

The chair was lit up, John realized as he stepped closer. Beckett’s eyes were smashed shut and he was grimacing openly.

 

“That’s bloody easy for you to say, Miko! The damn thing _likes_ you,” Beckett said, “almost as much as General O’Neill.”

 

Miko pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes a little.  “Only after spending many hours working with Dr. McKay.  It takes time and practice, which you have refused in the past.”

 

“Can we help you?” The other woman, a petite blond asked from beside the chair where she seemed to be monitoring Beckett’s vitals.

 

“It can wait. I’m waiting for the General to get done with his meeting and you guys are busy.”

 

“If it’s important—” Carson opened his eyes and glanced towards John.

 

“Carson!” the blonde scolded, hand slamming down on the center of his chest, pushing him back into the chair.

 

“Later would be good.” Miko glanced towards him and blushed, her pale cheeks flushing.  She reached up to adjust her glasses and averted her gaze down to her tablet computer. “Carson, please try.  It would be very good to have something to show Dr. McKay when he returns.”

 

Carson sighed and glanced up at the blonde, his expression softening as she smiled at him. His head dropped back against the chair, his eyes drifted shut, and his face took on that grimacing look of concentration again.  John blinked at their interaction, surprised. He’d have thought there was at least a ten year age difference between them.  Most pairs were no more than three years apart in age.

 

“I think I feel something,” Carson ventured, eyes opening to look at Miko.

 

A smile crossed her face. “What exactly do you feel?”

 

“I’m not . . .” Above them an image materialized and John’s eyes widened in surprised. It was flickering in and out. Lines and images that John realized detailed the solar system appeared and disappeared above them. “There’s something—oh!”

 

The image coalesced for one long moment, a red symbol appearing on orbit around what looked like Earth.  A commotion started outside of the room and Beckett sat up, face pale and eyes wide. “What—What did I do?”

 

Grodin entered the room at a run. “A drone just took off!”

 

Beckett somehow managed to pale further. “I—I—”

 

“You need to focus on stopping it. Think ‘off’!” Miko insisted before breaking off into a stream of Japanese.

 

The hum beating in John’s mind had taken on a different note since the commotion started and he stepped closer to the chair. There was something insistent at the back of his mind, almost as if he knew exactly what was going on. 

 

“I don’t think.” Beckett’s eyes squinted shut. “I cannot!”

 

“You _can.”_  The blond grabbed his arm, supporting him physically and emotionally.

 

“I do not think I can!”

 

The hum was building at the back of his mind and John stepped forward, up onto the pedestal next to the blond. The moment his foot touched it, the blue glow brightened and the hum changed. There was a stream of information running through his mind, it was muted but it was calling to him, asking for his attention and calling him towards the chair.

 

Beckett winced and sat up, pushing quickly away from the chair. His eyes were wide and he was staring at John. “I think—”

 

“Carson!”

 

John nodded and, ignoring the protesting women, sat down in the chair and leaned back. Immediately the stream of information was no longer in the background of his mind. He shut his eyes and focused on the stream of information.  It was almost _visible_ in his mind’s eye.

 

He could see the Earth and the trajectory of the lone drone that had been fired.  It was making its way into orbit towards an object.  He focused on it and realized that it wasn’t an object or even a satellite; it was a space ship.

 

“It’s heading towards a ship in orbit.”

 

“Oh bloody hell!” Carson exclaimed and Grodin cursed.

 

“It is the Prometheus! Do not let it hit! It will go straight through the shield.”

 

“Prometheus?” John asked as he turned his attention back to the drone.

 

“It’s one of ours,” the other woman explained and then clarified, “the United States built it and the Air Force crews it.”

 

That was all John needed to know and he readjusted his mind back to the ship and, letting the chair guide him, labeled it belonging to them—the makers of the chair.  That was when he realized that the chair wasn’t human made. Someone else, an alien race, had made it.

 

The drone’s path adjusted and it turned away towards another object in orbit. John cursed silently and went about labeling the international space station and a dozen other objects nearby as friendly’s. Finally he had enough time to focus on the drone and turn it off.

 

He opened his eyes and stared up at the holographic display that was hovering over his head. It was centered on Earth and displayed the location of everything giving off a signal in orbit—dozens of Satellites, the space station, and the Prometheus—and the exact location of the drone.

 

“What’s going on here?” another female voice demanded.

 

John sat up in the chair and it powered down. General O’Neill and a group of other people, including Skaara and Daniel had entered the room.  The woman who had spoken had an authoritative look about her and John vaguely thought he might recognize her from somewhere.

 

“I thought I told you not to touch anything!” O’Neill exclaimed sounding only slightly annoyed.

 

“I had Miko talking Carson through using the chair—“ the voice cut off as John turned his attention to the man he didn’t recognize.

 

He froze as well and swallowed thickly as it felt like something got stuck in his throat. John’s eyes were locked with the bright blue eyes of a scientist—he had to be due to his attire—and in that instant he knew that any doubts he’d had about his want, capacity, or whether he deserved to mate again were entirely irrelevant.

 

While it didn’t feel exactly like it had when he first met Charlie, John knew without a doubt that the man in front of him was his mate.

 

“Oh _hell.”_  O’Neill sighed and distantly began clearing the room as John stood up and haltingly made his way towards the blue eyed man.

 

His mate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So, what did you guys figure out?” Jack glanced around the room, taking in everyone that was there.

 

Rodney tapped his fingers on the back of his tablet computer as Daniel began explaining everything they’d figured out and how they’d done it.  He was excited, really and truly excited about the prospect of going to Atlantis. Since finding out about the Stargate program and being able to work on Ancient technology, Rodney had found fulfillment in his work that he’d never gotten from the theoretical astrophysics he’d done for years.  Not even watching his engineering designs being utilized came close.

 

He was an oddity in his field and even the rest of the scientific community. His focus—as he felt others should be—was entirely on his work. Unlike his peers Rodney could manage it easily due to his status as a single. Being a man in his thirties and never having found his mate was awkward and discouraging.  His sister, who had given up on her PHD in Astrophysics upon mating with an _English_ major to have a family, insisted that he was compensating for his lack of a social life by working all hours of the day and night.  The therapist the SGC forced him to visit to maintain his position as head scientist for the so far theoretical Atlantis expedition thought so, too.

 

“—eighth symbol.  The lost city isn’t _lost_ , Jack,” Daniel continued, “it’s just in another galaxy _and_ we can go there.”

 

Doctor Weir was smiling, feeding off of Daniel’s excitement. Unlike them, however, Rodney figured it was going to be a bit tougher to convince O’Neill to go to bat for the expedition with the IOA. He pressed his lips together and set his computer down on the table.

 

“Doesn’t traveling between galaxies take a lot of power?” Jack asked, looking between all of them.

 

Zelenka—a Czech scientist who Rodney remembered mostly because he was married to the quiet Japanese woman who tended to stammer around him—nodded across the table from Rodney.  “We have calculated the exact amount of power needed,” he fiddled with his glasses as he glanced down at his tablet.

 

“Which is?” Jack raised an eyebrow.

 

“Not quite as much as it would take to reach the Ida galaxy where the Asgard live,” Rodney spoke up, leaning forward slightly.  “The city is located in a nearby dwarf galaxy we call Pegasus.”

 

“Which means . . .?”

 

“Which means that it will still take a lot of power to reach,” Rodney steeled himself for the inevitable, lifting his chin. “But with a ZedPM we can easily generate enough power to open a wormhole long enough to send a team through.”

 

“ZedPM,” Jack frowned and narrowed his eyes. “You mean the battery thing we retrieved from Proklarush Taonas.”

 

“ZPM, he’s Canadian,” Dr. Elizabeth Weir explained away Rodney’s usage of ‘zed’ as if that was Jack’s issue.

 

“No,” Jack stated simply. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

 

“But Jack!” Daniel exclaimed, leaning towards his friend. Beside him Skaara was frowning; he laid a hand on Daniel’s arm.

 

“The answer is no. We need the –ZPM—to power the chair. There is no way I’m leaving this planet defenseless with the Ori,” Jack sent a pointed look Daniel’s way and the other man winced, “running around trying to gain a foothold in this galaxy.”

 

“Consider the possibilities!” Rodney couldn’t help but feel annoyed at Jack’s instant refusal, even if he could see the point the general was making.  “What we’ve found here and all over this galaxy is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Ancient technology. They took Atlantis to Pegasus, not the other way around. It stands to reason that everything we’ve found here is nothing more than outdated technology.”

 

Seeing the look on Jack’s face, Zelenka added, “Think about this technology as if it is Windows 95 while in Pegasus they have upgraded to XP.”

 

“While entirely too simplistic in reality, that metaphor does work.” Rodney tilted his head up and leaned back in his chair.

 

“Exactly how much more advanced are we talking?”

 

“Millions of years,” Daniel spoke up before Rodney could continue.

 

Rodney glared at him, but stayed silent, choosing to listen to Daniel’s explanation.  Science was his area of expertise not history. Daniel actually liked giving detailed historical accounts—sometimes to the point that it was annoying when they were examining artifacts that also happened to be working Goa’uld or Ancient technology. However, he’d rather Daniel rant about the why’s and how’s then have to do it himself.

 

“Think about it. Remember Ayiana—”

 

“The ancient woman frozen in the ice,” Skaara supplied helpfully.

 

“How could I forget?” Jack scowled. She had given everyone at the outpost when they found her the Ancient plague and then managed to heal everyone but him. As a last ditch effort he’d been forced to become a temporary Tok’ra host. From what Rodney understood doing so was extremely painful as becoming a host practically shut down one’s mating bond. While he’d never been mated, it wasn’t hard to misunderstand the affect that would have on someone. He’d seen coworkers when their mate was badly injured and that was a horrible thing to witness.

 

“Well she was frozen _after_ Atlantis left Earth, but not that long after.  According to some of the records we’ve found, the ancients that left Earth in Atlantis did so to avoid the plague.”

 

“Wait.” Jack held up a hand. “They _took_ Atlantis with them?”

 

“It is a space ship of some sort, from what we have managed to decipher,” Zelenka said holding up his tablet. A very basic depiction of the snowflake shaped city-ship they’d found while Miko was fighting with the chair to get it to give her information was displayed.

 

“City-ship would be a more accurate description,” Rodney spoke up gesturing towards the image. “The Ancients built it here and then flew it to Pegasus.”

 

“Several _million_ years ago,” Jack pointed out.

 

“Yes,” Rodney nodded, “but this outpost is still here as well as other Ancient sites that you yourself have been to across _this_ galaxy. Since we know that the outposts and other locations here are much older than what should be present in Pegasus, it’s safe to assume that Atlantis and any other ancient sites there are in better condition than the ones here.”

 

“Fine,” Jack said, relaxing slightly. “But you still have to find a different way to get there.”

 

“Jack,” Daniel protested, “there’s no other way.”

 

Jack stared at him for a moment before turning to Rodney.  “You think there are more of those Zed things on Atlantis?”

 

“Yes,” Rodney was nothing if not sure of himself, “and if not them then perhaps something even better.”

 

“Considering how much we’ve already discovered,” Elizabeth spoke up again, “I think Atlantis has the best chance of providing us with the knowledge and technology to stand up against the Ori and win.”

 

Jack pursed his lips and stared at Zelenka’s computer.  “I’ll speak to the IOA. But, if they approve it, odds are it’ll be a one way ticket unless you find something on the other end.”

 

“We—” Elizabeth was cut off by a commotion in the main room. A few moments later one of the marine’s ran in, he automatically focused on Jack rather than Elizabeth, even though she was in charge of the outpost officially.

 

“Sir, one of the drones activated and headed to the surface!”

 

O’Neill was up and out of his seat in an instant, causing it to clatter backwards. The only reason it didn’t upend was the fact the room was crowded with equipment and filing cabinets lined the walls where there was room. He headed into the main room, demanding an explanation.  Elizabeth was close behind him, calling for Dr. Grodin who had been placed in charge of examining the drone technology.

 

Rodney snagged his tablet and started pulling up information from the wireless array they’d managed to cobble together and connect with the working systems they’d enabled in the outpost. “Oh, no no no . . .” he trailed off, his feet automatically following after the group as he located the data related to the drone targeting system. 

 

There was a ship—he could tell it was the Prometheus from the sensor data—in orbit and the drone had labeled it as an enemy combatant. “Not good,” he said as Zelenka let out of stream of Czech nearby. “This is definitely _not good._ ”

 

As they hurried through the chaos, Rodney inwardly cursed at his lack of ability to hack the Ancient systems.  They had only recently managed to gain access at this level.  The information Miko had managed to pull while sitting in the chair had been instrumental in getting them this far and they were improving the integration of their technology with Ancient tech by leaps and bounds daily. It just was quite good enough to be any help in this situation.

 

And suddenly, as they made their way through the crowd and into the chair room—Rodney practically running some scientist over—the Prometheus’ status updated and changed to friendly along with every other human made object in the drones general vicinity.

 

“What?” Rodney muttered, eyes widening as he watched whatever glitch had occurred reversed itself. The drone suddenly shut off and a set of coordinates was transmitted back to allow for it to be retrieved.

 

“What’s going on here?” Elizabeth demanded of the small group surrounding the chair.

 

Rodney had practically forced Carson into working with Kusanagi on the chair earlier. He should have still been sitting on it, but he was standing off to the side of the pedestal next to his mate—a young twenty-something blond Rodney referred to as Barbie in his mind and occasionally when annoyed and not around Carson.

 

“I thought I told you not to touch anything!” Jack exclaimed as the man in the chair sat up.

 

“I had Miko talking Carson through using the chair—” he cut himself off as something shifted in the room and inside him. He swallowed as he met the gaze of the man in the chair.

 

While he’d ever mated in his thirty three years on Earth, Rodney had certainly watched it happen often enough to his peers. He never imagined it would be like _this_ though. It almost felt like there was an invisible cord snapping into place between them, pulling them together. He took an involuntary step forward.

 

“Oh, _hell,_ ”Jack cursed and dimly Rodney was aware of the general barking out orders and clearing the area of personnel.

 

Rodney took another step forward as the man—a pilot, he realized—stood up and moved towards him slowly, almost as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

 

“McKay!” Jack barked sharply, his tone managing to grab Rodney’s attention—in the form of a glare—for a short moment.  “Clear out to quarters as soon as possible.”

 

“Yes, sir.” The pilot—Lt. Col. John Sheppard according to his uniform snapped sharply before Rodney could say anything.  Oh, _oh._ Rodney _knew_ that name. He’d heard other people at the outpost talk about him.

 

O’Neill left then and Rodney turned back to his mate who had finally closed the distance between them. They were inches apart and his skin and fingers itched to touch.  He swallowed again, his throat suddenly dry.  “You were mated before,” he stated as John raised a shaking hand to his face. Long fingers hovered just above his cheek. Their eyes were locked together, hazel and bright blue.

 

John swallowed then and Rodney’s attention caught on the slight bob of the pilots Adam’s apple above his collar.  “I was. Charlie—he—he died.”

 

“I know.” Rodney looked him in the eye again. He did know. Not only from the gossip, but suddenly he just _knew._   He knew and understood it deep down in only the way a mate could understand their partner’s thoughts, feelings, and soul.  “I’m not him. I can’t and won’t be a replacement.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Good.” He lifted his chin and pressed his lips together tightly, one edge curling up into a slight smile.  “Now kiss me. I’ve heard the mating fever is utterly fantastic and I’d rather get this first spike over as quick as possible so we can get away from prying eyes. I am _not_ an exhibition—”

 

John cut him off with a hand on the back of his head, pulling him into a deep, probing kiss.  It drew a moan out of Rodney as John tasted his lips and then swiped a tongue into his mouth to wage a short battle with Rodney’s.

 

When they broke apart Rodney continued, “—ist. Considering your . . . experience, I’m assuming you have an idea of what we can do?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

John couldn’t help but smile at the unabashed upfront nature of his new mate.  It was a quality he was glad the man had.  If McKay had been unable to get past the idea of John having been mated previously . . . well, he wasn’t sure how well things would have gone, especially with the fever.  He knew McKay now, even if he didn’t _know_ him yet.  The last thing he wanted was for him to feel like he was second best to Charlie. It wouldn’t be fair to him.

 

“I’m John Sheppard.”

 

“Rodney McKay.”  Rodney frowned at him, even as he was sliding a hand up to John’s neck.  “You didn’t answer my question.”

 

“I’m pretty sure I do,” John said, answering the question even though he knew it wasn’t quite so cut and dry.

 

Most people, especially those who had yet to mate, referred to the mating fever as ‘sex bonding,’ but as he’d gone through it once John knew it was much more than just that.  The physical aspect of the mating fever just initiated things and allowed the mental and spiritual aspects to fall into place.  The act of losing yourself in your mate and vice versa brought a pair into ‘tune’ with each other.  Research had, after all, shown that a mating fever could end without the pair engaging in literal sex—it just took longer.

 

“And?”

 

Their mouths were centimeters apart, eyes locked.  John searched across the bond he could feel growing between them.  It felt much stronger than what he remembered his bond with Charlie as being even months after they’d met.  “Have you?” he asked.

 

Rodney flushed and not from the chill of the room.   A mix of embarrassment, a tint of shame and pride mixed together filtered to him.  His chin lifted up, lips pressed together in a slant.  “Siberia has a surprising number of singles in their communities . . . of all ages. The people there are quite scandalous by your country’s standards.”

 

John blinked his lips quirking. “I’m not judging,” he assured him. He closed the small distance and pressed their lips together; kissing Rodney till the other man moaned and opened his mouth to him. He pulled back after a few long moments. “Do you trust me?”

 

Blinking Rodney opened his mouth, shut it and then opened again, a hint of surprise tinting his response, “Always.”

 

John kissed him again and gave into the growing heat between them.  He maneuvered them further into the room, initiating another kiss as they went.  Considering the options, he bypassed the chair and pressed Rodney up against one of the metallic looking walls. Rodney’s hands had slipped beneath his jacket, pushed it off, and were working their way under his shirt.

 

Grasping Rodney’s hands, he pulled them away from him and settled them on his shoulders. He kissed the other man again and then slid down to his knees, catching a glimpse of surprise in the other man’s blue eyes as he worked open Rodney’s pants.

 

Gaining access to Rodney’s cock through the multiple layers the doctor was wearing took a bit of work.  John smiled; biting his lip as he finally freed it.  He wasted no time in taking his mate into his mouth, tongue sliding on the underside and over the tip before he sucked him in.  Rodney’s hands moved up from his shoulder, one grasping his hair tight and the other sliding against the wall.

 

John hummed as he worked, one hand aiding him moving at the base of Rodney’s cock s, moving in the same rhythm as his mouth bobbing up and down.  He worked his other hand into his own pants and freed his own dick.  As he worked Rodney, he moved his own hand in as close to the same rhythm as he could.

 

Rodney’s hand loosened a bit and his fingers slid down to the back of his neck to tangle in the short strands of hair there. They flexed as he let out another moan and John knew his mate was close.  He took him in as deep as he could and swallowed.  He could feel the bite of Rodney’s rounded nails digging into the back of his neck as his mate shuddered and came.  The explosion of pleasure across the bond brought him to the edge of his own orgasm sooner than he’d expected. He pulled back, swallowing Rodney’s release as he found his own, spilling over his hand.  He tucked himself back in, wiping his hand against his shirt. It didn’t matter if he got it dirty, someone would retrieve a new uniform for him—might even be right now—by the time he and Rodney were free of the fever.

 

“Fuck,” Rodney cursed and slid down the wall, legs bracketing John as he went.  Once he was on the ground John leaned forward and kissed him, his hands tucking his mate’s cock back into his pants. Rodney kissed back aggressively, tongue pushing into John’s mouth.

 

“So,” John started as he leaned back, “you have quarters here?”

 

“I do.” Rodney stared at him for a moment with half open eyes. “Upstairs in one of the barracks . . . I normally have a couple of roommates, but I believe that will have been rectified for the next few days.”

 

John pushed himself to his feet, snagging his flight jacket he shrugged it on and zipped it up to cover the mess.  “We should probably head up and let everyone get back to work before the fever comes back.”

 

Rodney made a face and nodded. “We should probably request some MREs as well.”

 

“MREs? I figured someone would drop some food off every so often.” John raised an eyebrow. That’s what had happened when he and Charlie mated.

 

“I prefer MREs to the crap the cook makes.” Rodney scoffed. “Besides, I have allergies, horrible allergies, and while I can trust the ingredients list on the MREs the cook has been rather lax in labeling things correctly.  The last thing you want is for me to have a severe allergic reaction because the cook doesn’t realize something contained citric acid and put it on the menu for us.”

 

Filing that information away John held out a hand and helped Rodney up.   Switching hands, he tangled their fingers together, squeezing as tight as he could without hurting his mate. _His Mate_.  It was odd to think it let alone know it.  After nine months of being alone he wasn’t anymore.  The presence slowly gaining ground in the back of his mind was nothing like Charlie had been, but it was perfect nonetheless.

 

He felt like he could start making plans for the future again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

As the all clear came, letting them know that Dr. McKay and Lt. Col. Sheppard were sequestered away in Rodney’s quarters, Elizabeth let a smile cross her face.  Rodney was an extremely bright scientist, a genius on a scale that was difficult to define. He was nothing if not invaluable to the expedition team she was forming.  Until now, however, he’d also been a risk.

 

An unmated individual in a command position at his age—especially as a civilian—was something the IOA had been waffling over for months.  There was no disputing his intelligence or his skill set; rather his ability to interact and lead was in doubt due to his lack of a mate.  Until the Stargate program had ventured out into the galaxy and found that the population of most worlds in the Milky Way mated populations comprised less than half of the total, it was widely believed that singles over the age of thirty had something ‘wrong’ with their mind.  Even now, due to the classified nature of the program, they were still widely discriminated against.

 

The IOA had been forcing Rodney into counseling and Elizabeth knew that at least a couple members had been planning on using the so-called results to replace him with a different, more politically suave, chief science officer.  While she herself did clash with him on occasion, his ability to adapt and utilize alien technology, especially Ancient tech, and think on his feet was the reason why she wanted him in charge.  He also focused more on what needed to be done and setting deadlines rather than social cliques and interactions. 

 

While he wasn’t always the most understanding, he brought a sense of logic most scientists in the SGC she’d met seemed to lack. His work with Lt. Colonel Carter, General O’Neill’s wife, had resulted in some of the most brilliant designs and theories to date.  Their differences balanced each other out perfectly on a professional level, even if personally they didn’t get along very well.

 

It didn’t take long for the lift to drop them off back at the min chamber. As the group—minus McKay—entered the meeting room, she turned to Jack.  “We need him.”

 

“You can’t have Daniel,” Jack stated firmly, ignoring his former team mate’s protests. He didn’t need to address them anyway as Skaara was silencing Daniel for him.

 

“He is right, love,” Skaara covered Daniel’s mouth with a hand and narrowed his eyes at his mate.  “You are needed here to deal with the Ori. If they cannot return from Atlantis then losing you would do no one any good.”

 

Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile at them. Turning back to O’Neill as they sat down, she shook her head. “Not Daniel, Sheppard.”

 

“Oh.” Jack waved a hand at her, dismissive. “If he wants to go, and he probably will considering—“ he motioned upwards, “—then yeah, you can have him.  _If_ the IOA approves your plan . . . you do have a plan, right?”

 

“Of course,” Zelenka said and shared a look with Elizabeth, “we have been gathering personnel and making lists of necessary equipment and supplies for months. The Anthropologists and botanists have many, many lists.”

 

“Please tell me you’re taking people who know how to get their hands dirty, not just stuffy scientist types.”

 

Elizabeth blinked and glanced over to Daniel. “According to the records we’ve translated Atlantis has—”

 

“Ach,” Jack cut her off, “A city-ship that is _millions of years old._ Do _not_ make plans based on the best case scenario. For all you know it’s falling apart at the seams.” He turned and narrowed his eyes at Daniel. “How many times do I have to remind people to plan for the worst case scenario? After all these years . . .”

 

 

 

Eyes blinking open, John sighed as he woke up.   A dull gray ceiling came into focus in the dim fluorescent lighting from a nearby lamp that had been left on.  It wasn’t too dissimilar from the types of ceilings he was used to, but it wasn’t his quarters.  He came awake quickly then and turned the only thing that kept him from bolting upright was the soft snore next to him.

 

The events of the last day or so came back to him, memories of his conversation with the General, sitting in a chair that spoke to him _in his mind,_ and a man with bright blue eyes and a slanted mouth—his mate.  His heart beat fast in his chest and he turned his head, rolling slightly to the side.  Rodney was there, lying on his stomach with his arms shoved under his pillow.  His short blond hair was mussed, sticking every which way in some places and plastered to his head in others.

 

John stared at him for several long moments as his heartbeat calmed.  He had a mate, _again_.  The empty place inside him no longer ached and was instead filled with the essence of who Rodney was.  He reached out to that place, to where their bond was slowly completing.  They were already tied together, inseparable, but he somehow knew it would grow.

 

As he trailed his self across that bright feeling where darkness had been for so long, John suddenly understood what O’Neill had meant.  Rodney wasn’t anything like Charlie had been, and yet he still completed John.

 

“Stop it,” Rodney mumbled into the pillow before turning his face towards him and slanting one eye open.  “Can’t sleep when you’re . . .” he stopped, both eyes opening and brow furrowing.  “Were you stroking me _mentally?”_

 

“Uh,” John pulled back and chewed on the inside of his lip.  He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. “Yeah?”

 

Blue eyes widened.  “You can do that?!” Rodney’s mouth snapped shut and he pushed himself up on his elbow, facing John.  “I’ve heard and now experienced the feeling . . . emotions I mean . . . but I didn’t know there would be _mental groping.”_

 

John smirked and then reached out, running a hand down Rodney’s arm.  His mate’s eyes dropped to track the movement. “Does that bother you?”

 

“No!” Rodney’s eyes snapped up to meet his.  “It doesn’t bother me! I just didn’t know about it.  What else is there?”

 

“I don’t know.” John shrugged, causing Rodney to scowl.  He caught Rodney’s hand and twined their fingers together.  The scientist let him, so he figured that it was okay, although he got the distinct picture that Rodney wasn’t used to being very physical with other people at all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_His fingers moved swiftly, if slightly clumsily, over the keys, playing each note in its rightful place.  The music swam through his mind, translated with ease to the corresponding white or black key on the piano.  Rodney loved playing the piano; it was difficult because his fingers weren’t quite as long as some of the other students.  He loved the challenge, though.  Each time he completed another piece to his own satisfaction it dulled the ache inside._

_“Rodney!” his mother’s voice startled him, breaking his conversation and causing his fingers to slip and hit a flat instead of a natural on accident.  She scowled harder at the mistake.  “How many times have I told you not to touch your Grandmother’s piano?”_

_Probably a couple hundred; most of which were reiterations before they walked up to the house on weekend visits.  Besides, the piano was_ his _now, just like his Grandmother had promised him it would be one day.   “Grammy’s dead and she—”_

_His mother’s hand wrapped around his upper arm tightly and she pulled him off the bench.  Rodney barely had time to get his feet under himself.  Stumbling, he nearly ran into her leg but she pushed him back away._

_“Your Grandmother wouldn’t have wanted dirty hands on the keys! Especially not those that can’t play worth a damn.”_

_He stared up at her, blue eyes narrowed in a glare that was firm for a nine year old.  “I’ve won three ribbons and I’m the best student Mrs Carona has!”_

_“Yes, I suppose you are.  Although your fingers aren’t . . . you’re still a bit too pudgy.”  He flushed and clenched said fingers tight, hands at his side.  “Also, Mrs Carona told me you’ve learned all she can teach you . . . apparently for all your technical ability,” his mother looked away, “you’re playing lacks the emotion and imagination needed to become truly great.”_

_“Who will I take lessons from?” Rodney ventured, eyes lifting to his mother.  Her lips were pursed and she shook her head._

_“Your father and I have decided that sending you to another teacher wouldn’t be worth it.  Not if you lack such an important aspect of being a pianist.”_

“I’m glad it doesn’t bother you,” John smiled.  He pushed away the ache at the thought his mate might not have had a meaningful relationship before him.  Suddenly, the idea that he had been living with Charlie for years while Rodney was all alone turned his insides cold.

 

Rodney’s eyes narrowed.  “What are you thinking about?” he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.  It was nearly undetectable, but John felt it.

 

“You . . . and Charlie.” John sighed and let his eyes close.  “How you were alone while I—I wasn’t.”

 

“Well, that’s stupid.” Rodney snorted, fingers tightening around his.

 

Eyes flying open, he frowned.  “What?”

 

“That’s a stupid place to go.  Obviously if you hadn’t been mated already you would never have ended up here and met me to begin with.” Rodney rolled his eyes.  “If anyone should be sorry it’s me.  You’re the one whose first mate died and through that tragedy met you.”

 

“There’s nothing you could have done about that.” John shifted closer, just an inch.

 

“ _Exactly_.”  Rodney nodded. “Hence the stupid.” He let his elbow shift and rolled more onto his back then his side, pulling John close enough that his upper body was almost lying on his chest.  “Can we not ruminate on the old and instead focus on the here and now? I respect what you had before . . . but it’s really ruining my mood.”

 

He was pouting and John couldn’t help but laugh a little.  Leaning in, he kissed his mate soundly tasting him thoroughly.  Neither of them had brushed their teeth since their late dinner—some aspects of hygiene tended to take a backstage to sleep and sex during the fever—but neither minded all that much.

 

“We should really eat,” Rodney said immediately after John pulled back, “I’m hypoglycemic.  I’d rather not get light headed or see stars for reasons other than a really, really spectacular orgasm.”

 

John laughed, loud and heartily.  “Has anyone ever told you that you talk a lot?” he asked, teasing.

 

“Yes, I’m sorry.” Rodney colored, flushing with embarrassment.

 

“Hey,” John tilted his chin up and kissed him again, “I didn’t mean it like that.  I just meant that you talk a lot . . . in a good way.  I like it—I like it a lot.  You fill my void—my silence—and complete me.  I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

 

“Well—well,” Rodney flushed again, but the mix of emotions that John could read were completely different then they had been before.  “I’m glad.  Now can we eat? I was thinking we could have sex again soon,” he glanced over at the MRE’s, focusing on them, “and eating would be a good idea to do before then.”

 

“Yep,” John ran his hand down Rodney’s arm and then pulled away, edging off the bed.  He padded naked over to the pile of MREs on one of the extra beds in the room.

 

“And then, I was thinking,” Rodney was biting his lip when John looked over at him.  “Maybe you could explain a bit more about what I might expect from the bond?”

 

John blinked and Rodney just plowed on.  “I mean, I know that each bond is different and blah, blah, blah, but you have _experience_ and I just hate not knowing—”

 

“Rodney,” John interrupted him, “are you sure that you want to know?  Telling you would involve talking about Charlie.”

 

“Please,” Rodney scoffed, “You can mention him outside of sex.  I’m not going to break at the mention of his name.  Besides, he can’t be an elephant in the room forever—he was part of your life for longer than we’ve known each other.  It wouldn’t be fair to him or you to ignore that he ever existed.”

 

Something inside John relaxed and he immersed himself in Rodney for the first time outside of sex.  “Okay,” he smiled and held up two containers.  “Macaroni or Spaghetti?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot give the exact day of the week each chapter will be posted due to life. Normally though, it'll show up on my weekend (Wed-Thu), but sometimes life throws a curve ball like leaving me sick in bed for five days (Sun-Thu) and then barely being well enough to go in for two ten hour shifts Fri and Sat.
> 
> I was never exactly happy with how I organized things for what the colony would or would not need and I can't even remember if I did any real research on any of it as it has been so long apart from knowledge I'd gleaned from various sources over the years. There will be a lot of random OCs that you may only meet once in the course of this fic, but they have their purpose in the expedition even if they aren't main characters and their job deserves a mention.
> 
> The first section is from Elizabeth's perspective and may be the only part that isn't from John or Rodney's in this fic.
> 
> There are two paragraphs in this part within brackets [...] which are back ground information that (If I could remember how to code it) would have been visible via hover text instead of within the body of the fic.
> 
> I hope people enjoy this part! And thank you for the kudos and comments to the first.

The meeting was not going as well as Elizabeth had assumed it would.  She had spent weeks putting together the final pieces and organizing the presentation for the IOA that, they had hoped, would give the Atlantis Expedition a green light.  The plan had been torn to pieces and reshaped multiple times before reaching its current format.  The contracts of the core members of the expedition had been secured and O’Neil had also contributed, organizing the base of the military contingent that would defend the civilians if need be.

 

The presentation didn’t seem to be garnering the support she though it would from the representatives, however.   Not even the American representative, Mr. Woolsey was giving of any hint of approval.

 

“I’m sure everyone has questions,” Elizabeth stated, settling down into her chair at the end of the table as she turned off the projector.  “I’d be happy to answer them and clarify any unclear points.”

 

“Doctor,” William Hughs, the British representative, began, leaning forward, “you have clearly put a lot of time and effort into organizing this expedition.  The IOA wants to make it clear that under ordinary circumstances—”

 

O’Neill coughed into his hand and she darted a glance at him.  She had to agree with the General’s obvious thoughts, when it came to the Stargate program circumstances were never ordinary.

 

“—this would have been acceptable with only a few minor tweaks.  However, I’m sure you are aware that current times preclude the option of assuming the best.”

 

Elizabeth frowned and spoke up before Mr Hughs could continue, “We were very careful to plan for every contingency we could think of and then some—”

 

“Except for one.” The Chinese representative, Mr Liú interrupted her.  He pursed his lips and tapped the table.  “You assume that one day you might make contact once again with Earth or that if you do not your expedition would essentially become expendable.”

 

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Elizabeth said, jaw tightening.  Her people weren’t _expendable_ , sure, Earth may be able to get along without them—there were many scientists that had either been ineligible due to having families or just not wanting to come—but at O’Neill and Doctor Jackson’s insistence they had sorted out everything that would be needed to create a self-sustaining community within a few months.  “I don’t quite follow.”

 

“You’re planning as if you are a military vessel that may be stranded for an unknown amount of time on an island.  The ages range, gender, and mating mix of your expedition is highly skewed towards middle age outside of the military, male, and same-sex mates.  We find this highly illogical in some of the cases—especially within the scientist portion of your expedition where many aren’t as qualified as some of the other applicants.”  The British representative said, leaning forward.  “We are not going to approve of an Atlantis Expedition that takes that format.” He narrowed her eyes at her from behind his glasses.  “What we _do_ approve is the formation of an Atlantis _Colony_.  Due to the Ori threat in this Galaxy, the IOA has decided that the Atlantis expedition will serve has as a backup plan.”

 

Elizabeth’s eyes widened and she sat back in her chair.  She had chosen the people for the expedition based partially on the fact that they wouldn’t have too many ties back on Earth, which was part of the reason why the age rage was so limited, along with many of the other categories he’d listed.

 

“We approve of the Atlantis Expedition under the condition that it be re-organized with colonization in mind.  Also, due to Colonel Mitchell’s team locating a second, albeit mostly empty, ZPM, we have authorized a total of two gates to be opened from Earth to Atlantis.”

 

“The first gate will bear the essential manpower and equipment to keeping the expedition alive, including the military assets and scientific personal that a colony could not function without. It will be powered by ZPM that contains the most charge and will be held open for the full window. Barring any immediate issues, the second gate will open fifteen minutes later to receive an initial verbal report and contain additional supplies based on the limited information provided on the surroundings during the first. We also will send additional family members and staffing through then.”

 

“You’re going to organize that in fifteen minutes?” O’Neill spoke up, straightening from his half slouch.

 

“I believe it was stated that we want this to be a, in effect, colonization.” Hughs pointed out.  “There will be contingency upon contingency organized and equipment prepared in groups to go based on what we learn. Which is also why we will also be going over your list of expedition members, replacing and adding to it, as need be until we are sure that, if need be, a breeding population would be sustainable.”

 

A breeding population . . . Elizabeth hadn’t really thought of that.  They’d just assumed . . . maybe the IOA was right, they hadn’t assumed the worst.  At no time during their planning had they thought that perhaps Earth—or even the entire Milky Way galaxy—would be wiped out by the Ori.  It was a possibility, though, and now that she saw it she couldn’t _not_ see it.

 

“And what about those who deserve their place on the expedition, but by no fault of their own wouldn’t be able to contribute to a second generation?” O’Neill asked before she could.  It was an important question—they’d built much of the expedition with same-sex pairs, especially in the military contingent.  Many of them had jumped at the potential to travel somewhere that would allow them to openly live together on a daily basis.  Atlantis would have given them that.

 

“We have no desire to remove all of them from the expedition, or even most.  In fact having two gates will allow for more individuals to come through—including many more support staff.” Carole Legrand, the French representative pointed out.  “Perhaps part of interview process for more members could be identifying either more female same-sex pairs willing to travel or even asking about those willing to provide surrogacy –”

 

“That could cause issues in a small community,” Elizabeth pointed out.  “Even with two gates there aren’t going to be more than five hundred people coming through . . . they would see each other every day.”

 

“An anonymous sperm and egg donation center with voluntary surrogacy, then?” TKfrench representative suggested.

 

“What about my command staff?” Elizabeth asked after a few more minutes of discussion.  “And the military command structure? How much reorganizing does the IOA wish to do there?”

 

“Honesty, Doctor Weir, in that regard your selections work, although there may a be a few tweaks in the military contingent in order to better even out the gender ratio . . .” The Canadian representative’s eyes scanned over the page in front of her.  “We were very happy to hear of Doctor McKay’s new status, especially as it involves Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard, one of—if not _the_ —strongest ATA gene carries we’ve found.  Prior to this event the IOA had been considering suggesting a replacement, but all things considered we believe that God has seen fit to provide McKay an excellent mate, securing his status as chief of scientists.”

 

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief, trying not to let it show and scanned the faces of the men and women around her.

 

“We will want some of our doctors to go over their bond examination, just to make sure that it is healthy.”  She glanced up, meeting Elizabeth’s gaze.  “As Sheppard has previously lost a mate and survived, which in itself is rare, we want to make sure that there is nothing else out of the ordinary about their bond.

 

Inwardly Elizabeth further relaxed.  They wouldn’t find anything wrong with Sheppard and Rodney’s bond, because there was nothing.  After spending nearly a week holed up in McKay’s room, the pair had surfaced and resumed a more normal work schedule—at least for McKay.  The pilot had spent most of his time on base, working with his mate and the other scientists.

 

Doctor Beckett and several other medical doctors had gone through the bond veracity tests and they had passed them all with flying colors.  For such a new bond they were already seemingly bonded much stronger than several of the pairs in residence that had been together for _years._

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Rodney.” John stated again.  It was about the fifth time he’d said his mate’s name.  He was trying not to bring too much attention to them, but it was getting difficult.  Shopping with Charlie had been difficult enough, but the knowledge of what it was like to be without a bond had him itching to touch Rodney every second of the day.

 

The scientist, for his part, was entirely engrossed in the selection of books in front of him and had been for the last half hour.  John had already gotten their intended purchase from across the small strip mall—toiletries to fill their temporary apartment—and packed them into Rodney’s SUV.  He prodded Rodney mentally and got the equivalent of a swat and ‘come back later—I’m _busy_ ’ in return.

 

Sighing, John leaned against a book shelf and let his eyes scan over the books and journals.  Leave it to Rodney to choose to do necessity shopping at a store right next to a bookstore that carried a wide variety of up-to-date science journals. His eyes caught on a title and, intrigued, he stepped away from the shelf and picked it off the rack. Scanning the table of contents he flipped it open to the article advertised on the front and began to peruse it.

 

Only a couple minutes later he felt his mate’s eyes boring into him, the question and incredulousness flowing into John over the bond.  “Do you even understand _half_ that?”

 

“If I knew the thought of me finding theoretical Math interesting would get your attention, I would have started reading it an hour ago.”  John closed the journal and smiled.  “I did study Aeronautical Engineering and Math, you know.”

 

“In the military!” Rodney protested.  “It’s difficult to translate military degrees into civilian . . . that’s what equivalency exams are for!” His blue eyes bore into John’s, “Which, might I point out, you haven’t taken!” Huffing, he finally placed the magazine back on the shelf and turned back to his mate.  “A dumb move considering how much easier they’d probably be with the coursework fresh in your mind.”

 

John shrugged and smiled at Rodney.  “I never planned to get out . . . I was going to put in my twenty and maybe more and then retire.  I . . .” he paused and shifted the journal underneath his arm and, reaching out, took Rodney’s pile of books.  There was a variety, some entertainment and some purely scientific.  “It wasn’t like I was going to be hurting for cash when I get to that point.”

 

Rodney frowned and slanted a look at him.  “You’ll have to clear that up for me, I know you aren’t strapped for cash considering how little property you have, but I’ve seen your bank accounts.  You weren’t exactly rolling in wealth.”

 

“True, you did see my checking and savings accounts.” John blushed and turned, moving to head towards the check out. That had been a fun day. At least Colorado had a financial center for his bank of choice that they’d been able to go into. One that dealt specifically with the armed forces and had provisions for same-sex mates.  “You haven’t seen my trust fund, yet.”

 

“Trust fund?!” Rodney exclaimed.  He grabbed his arm, causing John to stop. “Trust. Fund?”

 

He winced and nodded. This wasn’t exactly the place he’d wanted to have this discussion. Not yet, anyway.  He was still getting things worked out in regard to said trust fund.  Dealing with his grandparents and the whole same-sex mating thing had been difficult before, but now that Charlie was dead and he was mated to someone else . . . that was just making it even harder.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_The last time John had been to the house he’d lived in with his parents when he was a kid was the day after the wake.  It hadn’t changed much, a testament to his father’s parent’s particularities.  They hadn’t liked his mother and barely tolerated John and Dave.  From what John understood, had they been able to dictate who his father’s mate was, they would have done so._

_His parents had meet during summer vacation during their college years.  His mother had been studying to be a nurse at a local community college and they had run into each other by way of a mutual friend.  As it was with all mating’s, the connection was instantaneous.  While his father’s family was happy for their son, they maintained a polite disdain for their son’s mate and her working class family._

_“Are you sure about this?”  Charlie asked him, bumping their shoulders together._

_John smiled at his mate, appreciative of the support flowing from him.  “Not really, but I might as well get it over with. I mean, what’s the worst they can do? Disown me?  They practically did that when I joined the military.”_

_“They could mess with your inheritance.”_

_“They already did that,” John’s lips quirked into a smile at the irony.  “As long as I’m in the military, I can’t touch a penny.”_

_Charlie’s hand wrapped around his bicep, pulling him to a stop at the foot of the long walk up to the house, “We don’t have to tell them. Not if you don’t want to.”_

_“We told your family—all of them.” John covered Charlie’s hand and squeezed gently.  “It’s only fair that we tell mine, too.”  And it wasn’t as if John had much family left.  His mother’s parents had succumbed to cancer two years ago leaving Dave and his father’s parents as the only family he had left._

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Our families suck.” Rodney stabbed a fork against his plate, stabbing a tomato and several pieces of lettuce.  “It’s amazing we survived to adulthood.”

 

“Hey,” John protested indignantly, “my Gramps and Granny were great caretakers.”

 

“Sure,” Rodney barely stopped to swallow as he spoke, “but I was referring to living family.  I’m sure they were great people, but they’re dead.”

 

John raised an eyebrow.  “And when was the last time you spoke to your sister?”

 

“I never said that _I_ was the picture of a good big brother.” Rodney rolled his eyes and waved away the question.  “Besides she ruined her life letting her mate dictate her life choices. She was on the path to a _stunning_ career in astrophysics—not as good as mine though, of course—and she through it all away to become a _homemaker_.”

 

“And if you had mated back then?”

 

“Assuming I was my sister I certainly wouldn’t have let some _English major_ get me knocked up, mate or not!” Rodney placed his fork down and crossed his arms.  “And I definitely wouldn’t have let him talk me into dropping out of my PHD program.”

 

John rolled his eyes.  He adored his mate, he really did, but his disdain for ‘ _stupid’_ people and people who ‘ _threw their lives away’_ was rather ridiculous.  “Please tell me you’re at least going to contact her before we leave.”

 

“I—” Rodney blinked at the change in conversation and John could feel his inner turmoil.  “I hadn’t planned on it.”

 

Standing, John left his plate and ignored the rest of the food piled on the table as he reached a hand out to Rodney.  His mate just stared at him. He nudged him mentally, reassuring, and Rodney finally reached up and took his hand.  Twining their fingers together John pulled him up.

 

He led him through their small military furnished temporary home to the bedroom.  They’d be here for the next few months and, while it wasn’t ideal, it was much better than having on base quarters.  It also helped that the building they were in was owned and run by the military and family members.  No one would say a word or bat an eye at two men sharing a one bedroom house.

 

“We are _not_ having sex again.  We just had sex in the shower before dinner!” Rodney protested grumpily as John pushed him towards the bed and headed to the desk.  “Don’t get me wrong, I love sex, but I don’t think I can get it up again quite yet and I’m still hungry. Which is another thing, hypoglycemic here!  And my dinner better not get attacked by whatever pests are surely—”

 

“There are no pests in this apartment—unless you count your cat.” John teased, grinning as he snagged his laptop off the desk.  It was older than Rodney’s and rather scuffed up in comparison.  His mate had been pestering him to replace it, but he honestly didn’t see why he should.  If Atlantis panned out they’d be in another galaxy by the end of the year and the only laptops they’d be bringing would be state of the art military government issue, anyway.

 

“Newton is not a pest.  He’s just a tad picky is all.” Rodney’s chin lifted and he followed John’s movements with his eyes.  “Bedsides, I think he’s still upset that I left him with my neighbors while I was in Antarctica . . . they have a dog.”

 

It powered up quickly, having been left in sleep mode.  Sitting on the bed next to Rodney, John typed in his password and flipped through a few folders till he found what he was looking for.  He didn’t have much on his personal laptop, just a few first person shooter games, some converted football games, his incomplete thesis, and photos.

 

He clicked the last folder open and then hit preview.  A picture popped up, two teens with their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders.  John was three years older than his younger brother, but Dave was almost the same height as him.  They were both smiling at the camera, genuinely happy and seemingly friends.  His Gramps had taken it at his high school graduation party . . . one of the last times he had seen his younger brother.

 

 The last time being that Christmas.  His Grammy had gotten sick—noticeable sick, she’d been avoiding the doctors for as long as John could remember—quickly  the next spring and late stage cancer that had spread throughout her body. They’d tried treatment, but in the end she had been unable to fight it, too many complications and a late diagnosis working against her. Gramps had faded with her at the end, and John knew now that he’d been trying to bolster her strength with his own—something John had never known anyone else but himself was capable of doing.

 

John had petitioned to have custody of his brother for the two remaining years until he’d graduate from high school, but the fact that he was at the Air Force Academy and only 19 years old himself had worked against him.  In the end Dave had gone to live with their Grandparents, a fact that ended up ruining their relationship for years.

 

“That’s your brother,” Rodney stated, surprised.  “He doesn’t look like you.”

 

John laughed and clicked next, switching it to a photo of him in his graduation outfit with a few friends.  “He looks like our Dad . . . I took after our mother.”

“Even the hair?”

 

“My Mom used to say I spent too much time doing jumping jacks in her womb.” John smiled.  Clicking back to the screen that showed all the pictures he scrolled down.

 

“If I hadn’t seen you in the shower with your hair drenched and still standing on end,” Rodney mused, one hand slipping up to slide through John’s hair, “I wouldn’t believe that.”

 

“Well then,” John smiled lopsidedly at him, leaning into the touch, “maybe you’ll have to convince my next CO that I’m really not trying to skirt the dress rules on purpose . . . my hair just has a mind of its own.”

 

“Hmm.” Rodney turned his gaze back to the computer. “I’m guessing you weren’t going to just show me pictures of you as a kid?”

 

“No. Actually . . .” John trailed off as he found the right picture.  It had been taken less than six months after he first met Charlie, during their first leave together.  Not long after they had gone to visit Charlie’s family and his Grandparents . . . after that bad experience Charlie had convinced him to make one more stop to see his brother.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“John!”  Dave was clearly startled.  “I—I didn’t know you were coming.” His gaze flickered from John to Charlie who was standing just on the bottom step of the porch._

_“I was in the area?” John shrugged and then rubbed at the back of his neck._

_Dave pursed his lips and leaned his arm against the door jamb.  “What are you doing here, John?”_

_“Look . . . I just wanted to see how you are doing.” John floundered; he hadn’t been able to talk to his brother for years . . . not how they used to before at least._

_When they were kids Dave had looked up to him, followed him around, and more than one when he was really little had annoyed him.  John remembered one particular incident when Dave had tried to sit next to him on the bus . . . he had been so embarrassed by his little brother, but in the end he’d let him. Even with the other kids taunting him._

_But after the first Celebration he spent with his grandparents, they’d summarily kicked him out and told him to never come back.  His brother had stopped contacting him slowly, their conversations becoming more stilted.  John thought it stemmed from him joining the Air Force—something they for some reason looked down on—but now, thinking about it, he wasn’t so sure.  They had never liked their mother and out of the two of them, he looked the most like her._

_Either way, over time they had influenced Dave in a lot of ways, most noticeably pushing him to go into the family business like their father had.  Since their father’s death, their grandfather had runt the family company again . . . at least until Dave graduated.  Then he had started grooming him to take over._

_“I’m fine, more than.” Dave said, eyes flicking over to Charlie again.  “How are you?”_

_“Good. Great, even. I just thought I should say hi before . . .” he trailed off, insides seizing as a little boy appeared in the doorway, his tiny hand grasping Dave’s pants._ God _how badly had their relationship declined that his brother didn’t even see fit to let him know he had a_ nephew _?_

_“We’re being deployed to Iraq,” Charlie said, taking up the conversation where John had lost it.  “John wanted to see you again and to try and mend things before we left . . . that is if you want to.”_

_Dave’s jaw clenched, a muscle jumping briefly.  For one long moment John thought his brother would turn him away, to tell them to get off their property and never come back._

_“Are you my Uncle John?” A soft voice questioned curiosity and awe rolling off it._

_Dave’s eyes drifted down to his son and picked him up, supporting him securely in his arms.  “Yeah, Bray. This is your Uncle John. John, this is my son, Brandon . . . your nephew.”_

_John’s face lit up in a smile and the nervousness melted away. Buoyed by Charlie at his back, John grinned at the little boy and held his hand up for a shake, “Hey Buddy, nice to meet you!”_

_“Why didn’t you come before?” Brandon asked, taking John’s hand._

_“Because he’s been busy fighting bad guys,” David answered before John could speak up._

_“Like Spiderman?”_

_Charlie swallowed a snort of laughter behind him and John could feel amusement rolling off him in waves. He sent a mental shove his way and swallowed a laugh of his own._

_“Do you know G.I. Joe?” John asked and the little boy’s eyes lit up._

_“Uncle Taylor gave me a Joe! He said he used to play with it when he was little!”_

_John raised an eyebrow at his brother, surprised.  “Well I’m kind of like him only I’m a pilot.”_

_“You fly jets?” The little boy’s eyes were wide with excitement and wonder._

 

 

“This is my nephew,” John turned tilted the screen so they could see the picture better.  “He’ll be seven soon.  “I didn’t meet him until he was four because of the issues between me and my grandparents that were passed on to Dave and me.  Charlie practically forced me to go meet him because . . . because family is important, even if you don’t get along.”

 

Rodney didn’t say anything, but John could feel his emotional turmoil.  Setting the laptop aside he turned to Rodney and cupped his face.  “I know you don’t agree with the choices your sister has made . . . but sometimes it’s just better to agree to disagree and get on with life.  You’re going to deny it—I _know_ that—but you need to see her before we leave.  Letting this petty disagreement—don’t even bother disagreeing with me on that—fester under the thought that you might never see her again will do no one any good, especially not yourself.”

 

Rodney clenched his jaw, mouth tight in a frown.  After a long moment he sighed, eyes sliding shut.  “You’re right. I hate it that you’re always so _right._ ”

 

“You love me.” John grinned leaning in to steal a quick kiss.

 

“ _Fine_. Yes, yes I do love you.” Rodney pulled back and scowled at him.  “You taste like dressing.  And I’m _still_ hungry.  Can we go back and finish dinner now?”

 

“Yes Rodney.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rodney and John had been assigned almost identical schedules to start out at the mountain, enabling them to drive in together.  Their weekends were scheduled for the same dates—barring any emergencies—but the times they’d be working didn’t quite match up during the week, but that was mostly due to the off world training John was going to be receiving.

 

Apparently the SGC normally had their own training program that any officer would have to pass in order to be assigned to an SG team.  Those going to Atlantis weren’t going to be going through quite the same ordeal, but they were going to be going through a several week training program that would teach them the basics of what they would _probably_ need to know where stargates, aliens, and surviving on another planet was concerned.

 

It wasn’t just them either.  Everyone assigned to the expedition—including family members who would ideally not be involved in any altercations or direct communication with alien communities—would be going through varying versions of it.

 

The scientists and other civilian members of the team, along with their families, were slowly being ferried to the alpha site where they would learn how to be relatively self-sufficient and how to create a working society that could survive off the bare basics and, ideally, build up a utility system.

 

Rodney had grumbled when he’d found out just how many people were going—and how many of them weren’t fully trained military or scientists—although he was glad that there were going to be people to take care of laundry, cooking, and even teaching kids if need be. Because:  ‘there _are always_ kids. Just you watch, one day we’ll probably run into a world that is _just kids’._

John entered the room and promptly went to attention, saluting the Marine Colonel and Air Force General in the room. “Sir.”

 

“At ease, Sheppard.” O’Neill waved him off, scowling.  “Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard, Colonel Sumner, he’s the military CO for the Atlantis expedition.  I hope you two will get along, after all you might be stuck together for a while.”

 

“Sir.” John nodded at Sumner. The man nodded back, but John noticed how his eyes hardened and his jaw tensed.  He wondered what the other man had heard, or if it was just his stunning good looks that put him on edge.  First impressions rarely did him any good when it came to meeting his CO’s.  In fact O’Neill was the only one who actually seemed to _like_ him.

 

“Now I know you already went through a lot of prospective applicants for the expedition before the IOA shook things up, but I need you to go through them again and get a bit more variety this time . . . that includes more international troops. As much as it pains me to say, even the Russians,” O’Neill sighed. “Walter set things up for you in the conference room—“ he waved outside of his office “—so go _peruse_.”

 

“The conference room,” Sumner stated, disbelieving.

 

O’Neill’s office had been set up in the adjacent room, which forced people to go through the main conference room to get to it.  They had both clearly seen the stacks of files covering the table. John groaned inwardly and mentally waved off Rodney’s mental confusion and question.

 

“Yes, _the conference room_ ,” Jack sighed at the looks they gave him. “Fine . . . go through and at least agree on your command staff. All of the officers should be in the same stack and the NCOs in another. After that you can then drag _them_ up here to help you. Just get that cleaned up as soon as you can.  Not that I don’t enjoy the excuse to avoid meetings, it really is an eyesore.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“We’re going to need more than that.” Radek shook his head at the inventory numbers.  “Unless we have manufacture capabilities, anything that breaks will need to be repaired and not everything can be repaired with spit and tape. Computers are not one of them.”

 

“You haven’t seen John’s computer,” Rodney mumbled, but nodded.  “He’s right.  We’ll need to bring at least half as many spare parts for each component as we have computers and about double the number of computers as we have people—including the kids as much as I hate to admit it.”

 

“Computers aren’t really our priority here, though,” Doctor Ferris, pointed out.  “They’re extraneous . . . if we have no way to power them or even no way to grow enough _food_ to sustain the population size we’re discussing it’s a moot point anyway. We need to have more viable food sources and not just plants.”

 

“Oh you have got to be kidding me—” Rodney rolled his eyes and let himself be cut off.  The last thing this meeting needed was for it to devolve once again into a debate over whether or not to bring plant and animal life from one world into another.

 

“I believe it would be very advantageous to bring at least some animals with us.  Of course it would have to be planned practically, but if we have a breeding population of, say, chickens, sheep, or even horses if we end up living on a planet without the supposed amenities of a working Ancient city they could go a long way to easing the way of life.  Even working dogs could help with hunting, morale, and even serve in some cases as pack animals.”

 

Elizabeth was rubbing her temple, and Rodney had to agree with the sentiment as the Xenobiologist began explaining how bad introducing any animal life to an alien ecosystem could be. After a few minutes of intense debate that was slowly devolving, she finally spoke up.

 

“That’s enough! Both of you obviously disagree on this subject.”  Elizabeth had pushed herself up and she was leaning forward over the table, palms splayed flat against the hard surface.  “And while both of you have entirely valid arguments, I must point out that this isn’t just about the survival of an existing ecosystem, but it is also about our survival and about Earth.  If we need animals that we are familiar with for a while then so be it . . . we can bring with us a breeding population that can help us establish a functioning community.  From there we can learn about our new home and adapt our practices to include flora and fauna native to it.  In the meantime how about we try to come up with animals to bring that are easily controlled—leave the rabbits on Earth—and also work to develop protocols that can diminish the loss of animals into the wild _assuming_ Atlantis is situated in a way that would enable it to happen.”

 

Before she could be interrupted by Rodney she continued, “Half the parts you suggested will come in the first wave, the other half in the second.”

 

She continued and deftly switched gears on the conversation.  “Have we located any information that may give us an idea of Atlantis’ current condition or whereabouts?”

 

“Well, we obviously know _where_ it is.  We just know next to nothing about its situation on Lantea—that’s what the world it was last on, according to the outpost—was called by the Ancients.” Rodney hit a few keys on this laptop and brought up the limited information they had on the world.  “According to this it has very large ocean and one large land mass in addition to some island chains.”

 

“So it’s on the continent then?”

 

Rodney shared a look with Radek and sighed.  “We don’t know.  I mean, we can assume it is, but we don’t know for sure.”

 

“There is also, as Dr. Jackson would likely point out,” Jonas Quinn pointed out. “That all legends involving Atlantis state that it’s underwater.”

 

The Kelownan was one of the few people going that wasn’t from Earth—the others being a Tok’ra named Malek whose host had mated with a member of the SGC’s medical staff and an Asgard named Gefjun.  Rodney thought the Tok’ra had only volunteered to go because it would make things easier him and his new family.  It was difficult to deal with the divide of the Tok’ra and Tau’ri, especially as things had grown strained to the point that if it hadn’t been for Malek, after Jacob Carter’s death their alliance would likely have shattered.

 

[Carter’s wife was brain dead due to a car accident.  As her body still lived, the state made an executive decision to keep her body alive for as long as possible—over ruling the family due to new laws that claimed ending a brain dead individual’s life was tantamount to murder or assisted suicide of the fully functional mate.]

 

“Well then,” Rodney set his computer down.  “We’re screwed.  Let’s just scrap the entire expedition.”  He rolled his eyes.  “If, and I am stressing _if_ Atlantis is under water than the Ancients had to have known what they are doing.  Ergo the city is still intact.  Besides . . .”he glanced around. “Zelenski –”

 

“Zelenka.” The man corrected, pushing his glasses up his nose.

 

“Whatever.  What is Atlantis again?”

 

“A city-ship. It is essentially supposed to be a space ship.”

 

“Exactly and,” Rodney glanced around the room, “what exactly does Atlantis being a _space ship_ imply? Hmm?” his eyes trailed over every person in the room.  He ignored Radek’s sigh and finally met Elizabeth’s gaze.

 

“That it can be flown through a space,”she said finally filled in the blank.  It was an obvious thought.

 

“Exactly.  I doubt that the Ancients would leave it somewhere if they thought it was going to be destroyed by the environment.”

 

“The Ancients left an outpost on Proklarush Taonas,” Jonas said causing Rodney to scoff.

 

“The Ancients were far from perfect. Besides, that shield lasted longer than Atlantis has been in Pegasus.  Don’t you think they would have upgraded their systems by now?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Major Lorne, team leader of SG-15, was the only officer that really stood out from all the rest for both John and Sumner.  The tipping point of John was his possession of a strong ATA gene and the fact that he’d already shown himself to be capable of using some of the smaller equipment with ease.  He also had been to the outpost—after John had been there and returned to the states with Rodney—along with a few other identified ATA carriers.  While his scores weren’t as high as John or even General O’Neill, he’d shone at least as much ability with the chair as Miko in a shorter time period.

 

While he wasn’t about to voice his thoughts on the reasons behind that, at least not without more information, John did have to wonder if that had to do with the fact that the chair was inherently a weapon—a tool for soldiers and not scientists who didn’t have the stomach to do what was necessary.  The fact that Beckett went from being able to access most systems to being unable to get past the basic entry protocols seemed to clinch that for him.

 

Sumner, on the other hand, seemed to be hesitant about choosing Lorne for part of the command staff.   It was something that boggled John’s mind due to the Major’s service record.  Sure the man was Air Force, but he’d essentially been acting as a ground pounder for the SGC—as well as heading up a mining team to an Unas world—and his record was truly superb.

 

“Major Lorne, I’m sure you’re wondering why we’ve asked you to meet with us.” Colonel Sumner motioned for Lorne to take a seat.

 

“I assume it has to do with the Atlantis expedition, sir.” Lorne glanced at John and then back to the Colonel as he took the seat.  There was still a sea of folders covering the table, but they had cleared the middle as best they could before calling the Major in.

 

“It does . . . I noticed that there is a contingency to you joining the expedition.” Sumner raised an eyebrow.  “You weren’t in my original list of officer candidates for the mission and I wanted to hear the reason from you.”

 

Lorne nodded his understanding and straightened even further in his chair, if that were possible.  “I have provisional guardianship of my younger sister—she’s sixteen—for the next two years, sir.  Our parents are terminally ill . . . the only reason I’m able to maintain guardianship is that they’ve signed paper work requesting it.”

 

“And once your parents are gone you’ll likely lose custody.” John stated, understanding.  He had been in the same situation once, after all.

 

“The state of California is rather liberal when it comes to some of the old laws, but since I’m currently a resident of Colorado things are a bit complicated.”

 

“But you _are_ mated,” Sumner flipped open a page on Lorne’s personal file.

 

“Yes.” Lorne nodded and sighed.  “My mate is Doctor David Parrish, he’s the botanist on my team.”

 

“An odd mix of skillsets,” Sumner sighed and looked back up.  He didn’t ask about their mating story, just like he hadn’t asked about John’s.  That fact caused a shiver to work its way through John’s body.

 

Originally John and figured that Sumner hadn’t asked because he already knew—pretty much everyone in the military within the SGC knew John and Rodney’s mating story, it had been the talk of the Antarctic base for weeks. John hadn’t asked because Sumner had seemed more interested in churning out the paper work than sharing personal stories, but he was the only one of John’s CO’s who had never even broached the subject, even before John had met Charlie. The fact that he didn’t ask in an interview when Lorne’s mate was brought up was entirely impolite and something even the most conservative officer John had previously run into would have done.

 

“I assume you would like to bring your sister with you.” Sumner closed the folder and looked up at the younger man.

 

Lorne nodded and swallowed hard.  “We would, sir.  We’re all she has left and I’d rather she not enter the system.”  There was another edge to that comment that John thought he understood.  He’d rather not leave her here alone with the Ori around.  That was something he felt similarly about when it came to his brothers family.  But there was no way that he could bring them along—they didn’t count as immediate family for him—and it would disrupt their lives too much.

 

Sumner just nodded.  “Dr. Weir has noted that Dr. Parrish has been approved to join the Botany department and after careful consideration I’d like to offer you a position in the military contingent.  Your ATA gene and geological knowledge are too important to pass up when combined with your experience here at the SGC.  We have a few other command slots to fill,” he motioned to the other stacks, “along with going over all the applications for the rest of the contingent.  I suggest you clear the next few days to do so.”

 

“Yes, sir!” Lorne stood, saluting.  “Shall I start the paper work for Heather?”

 

“Yes.” Sumner answered shortly.  “As the IOA has insisted on turning this expedition into a colonization effort you’ll need to see the administrator that they have running this and . . . Heather . . . will need to be approved by Dr. Robinson in psych. She’ll also need to make some provisional choices for apprenticeships.”

 

John pulled a folder from a box behind them and handed it to the major.  “Everything should be in there, but if you have any questions about the process there’s a list of people you can talk to, including the Doctor.”

 

“Major, take an hour to contact who you need to and grab lunch.  Be back here by 13:30, we have a lot more people to go through and not much time if we want to get everyone trained up before departure.”

 

“Yes, sir!” Lorne saluted again and Sumner dismissed him. The next group of people on their list were going to be much more difficult to go through.  The IOA was insisting that they have multiple officers from the international forces involved in the SGC and other related programs—most of which were just getting off the ground.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The day of departure loomed quicker than Rodney expected it to and the rush of just knowing he’d be stepping through the gate to another _galaxy_ had adrenaline thrumming through his veins.  Part of the feeling was his mate’s, but he couldn’t blame him.  For the last few months the military—and even civilians—signed onto the project had been training off world, going between two different beta sites in practice rotations and also training every single member of the expedition—with the exception of a few of the youngest children—how to protect themselves and learning jobs that they may need to take on depending on the circumstances they found on the other side of the wormhole.

 

They were bringing a few more animals then had originally been predicted as some people wanted to bring pets along with.  All of them had to be adapted to a specific diet and the owners had been warned that the pets lives were secondary to the expedition.  Rodney had, to the surprise of many of his colleagues, been the one that tipped the scales in that discussion.

 

 

 

 

_“I’m bringing my cat.”  Rodney stated, daring someone to question him._

_“Rodney,” Elizabeth took up that dare, sighing as she turned to him.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”_

_“Cats can be bad for local ecosystems—especially small rodents, reptiles, and birds,” the biologist who had been grating on Rodney’s nerves for the past hour—to the point that John had sent him a message inquiring if he needed to be “saved”.  Rodney had told him to stuff his hero complex and just send him advil and a pair of wireless ear buds.  John had just been amused by it, his own frustration with the troops he was briefing coloring his response._

_“If Beckett gets to bring several dozen white mice, I get to bring my cat.  Think if just one of those mice gets out and starts breeding . . . having a cat would help rather than hinder.” He lifted his chin.  “Besides, Newton is fixed and it isn’t like he’s going to father any kittens to run rampant. Not to mention the positive psychological affect—”_

He still wasn’t exactly sure how he had managed it, but Newton’s carrier with a slightly drowsy Newton thanks to the vet they were bringing along—both for the small and large animals they were bringing and those they may potentially find—was at his feet.  The cat’s supplies had been shared between John and Rodney—food, a dish, a couple of toys and a pan that could, if need be, be sanitized and used for cooking rather than a litter box.

 

They were using the Beta site, a planet on the fringe of the Milky Way galaxy and nowhere near the known incursions by the Ori to dial Atlantis from.  It had taken some configuring, but they had removed the gate from the local DHD and hooked it up to a system similar to the dialing program to what they used on Earth.  The ZPM had been hard wired into the power grid in order to make it.

 

After dozens of practice runs they were finally ready to dial Atlantis and he was nervous and excited. Plugging in the ZPM into the power grid had been exhilarating and he was grinning widely, he had given a thumbs up to the airman that was manning the power station of the outpost and hurried out of the room, rushing to the departure area where he’d left his gear—and cat—with the two teenage girls that were joining them on the first wave—Major Lorne’s sister, Heather Lorne, and surprisingly Colonel Sumner’s adoptive daughter byway of his mate, Cassandra.

 

[Sumner and Frasier met late in life, after Frasier had adopted Cassandra.  She had been allowed to as Cassandra was formally listed, thanks to documentation, as a citizen of Canada and Janet’s cousin’s child.  Canada had different laws regarding relations, mating status, and adoption]

 

John caught his eye from the bottom of the ramp up to the gate.  The Beta site had been chosen for use in this case due to having the largest area around the gate of all of Earth’s secure off world bases.  He was geared up and ready to go.  His pack was full and over flowing . . . looking more like he was ready for a hike across the country than through the stargate.

 

They shared a long glance as the gate began to move, chevrons encoding.  They wouldn’t be going through the gate together and that scared Rodney.  Even the minor instances of separation—their bond stretched thin by the distance—they’d felt during the few trips John had done without him through the gate for military training wasn’t going to be as far away as now.  He could only hope that the gate didn’t shut down before they could go through.

 

Immediately after the horizon of the wormhole stabilized, the first of the six MALPS they were taking—the rest of which were bogged down with supplies for transport—began rolling steadily up the ramp.  It was through the gate within seconds, being transported farther than most humans on Earth had ever dreamed of going.

 

“Receiving MALP telemetry.” The technician announced from the overlooking area.  On Earth it would be facing the gate . . . here it was off to one side.  “Telemetry is good, reading a medium sized room with minor stairs on two sides and major in front.  Atmosphere is within normal ranges. Begin debarkation plan delta.”

 

Hefting Newton’s carrier in one hand and a case carrying seedlings and packets of seeds in the other, Rodney watched his mate disappear into the event horizon along with the rest of the officers and security forces. They waited mere seconds for the all clear—as if the fact that Rodney was still alive wasn’t at least some attest to that—to be given.

 

He strode forward, following the line of military and the first few civilians.  Elizabeth nodded at him from where she stood next to her mate.  They were bogged down with supplies s well, carrying as much as they could while still being able to move freely.  Her mate, a psychologist named William or Wallace or something to that affect was holding the leash of a large white dog.  The dog itself had a harness on with everything it’d seemingly need packed onto it—even what looked like one of those indoor potty areas for dogs.  They all headed up the ramp together and didn’t even pause as they stepped quickly, but orderly through the event horizon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“Hello, Miller residence.”_

_“Hi Jeannie,” Rodney fumbled over her name, fingers clenched around the phone._

_“Who is—_ Meredith?!” _his sister exclaimed, stunned.  He didn’t blame her; after all it had been years since the last time they’d talked._

_He felt John’s question at the name, he hadn’t exactly told his mate about the name change.  It just hadn’t come up . . . kind of like how John’s_ inheritance _hadn’t come up.  He turned away from John and cleared his throat._

_“Yeah, it’s me.”_

_There was a beat of silence on the other side and he just listened to her breath, glad to know that his sister was still alive and well after all this time. John wrapped an arm around his waist and Rodney leaned back, taking comfort in the line of his mate’s body against his own._

_“Why are you calling Rodney?” She asked, worry creeping into her voice.  “Is everything all right?”_

_“Yeah everything’s . . . everything’s fine.” He managed a smile, even if she couldn’t see it.  “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”_

_“I—We’re doing great Rodney.” She was still suspicious, but he couldn’t blame her._

_“And how’s the little one?” he winced, realizing he didn’t even know the gender of his own sister’s kid._

_“_ Madison’ _s good, which you’d know if you ever called or visited.” And there was the edge of biting anger that she’d inherited from their mother.  At least from past experience, Rodney knew that she managed it much easier than their mother ever had . . . and unlike their mother she avoided alcohol like it was the Great Plague._

_“I’m sorry?” He felt the John tighten his arm slightly and sighed.  “I’m sorry . . . I—I really am.”_

_“Oh, Mer, what’s wrong?”_

_“Nothing! Nothing’s_ wrong _! Why does something have to be wrong?”_

_“You’re apologizing to me, Mer! I can’t remember the last time you did that.”_

_“I apologize! I apologized for blowing up your Barbie’s that one time—”_

_“I was seven!”_

_“—and for that mirror . . . I do too apologize!”_

_She was quiet for a moment and then sighed.  “Meredith, what’s going on? You aren’t sick, are you?”_

_“What? No! I’m not sick. I’m fine . . . better than fine even! Stupendously all right!”_

_There was another beat of silence before his sister ventured a question. “Mer, did you mate?”_

_“I—I—” Rodney stammered into the phone and twisted to look at John.  His mate shifted slighting and took his free hand, supporting him silently in whatever decision he made.  “Yes?”_

_“Oh God!” His sister practically squealed in his ear.  “I can’t believe—You must be so happy, Mer! I was so worried about you! When did it happen?”_

_“A few months ago.”_

_“Are you going to come visit? You should . . . if you can.  I’d like to meet her.”_

_“I—I—He’s not a she.”_

_There was silence on the other end of the line and Rodney could practically hear the beat of his own heart thrumming away.  He couldn’t believe he’d just said that.  I mean, who outs themselves on the_ phone?! _It was insane.  He was insane and—John squeezed his hand, breaking his thoughts away from the whirlpool they had been swirling into._

_“Oh, Mer.” Her voice was still sweet, still loving, and still his sister.  There was no anger or disbelief in her voice.  “I’m glad you finally found him.  When are you going to come up?”_

_Rodney blinked, his body froze, “We didn’t know if you would want . . .”_

_“We do Mer, I’d like to see you again. It’s been too long.” Jeannie sighed. “Look, we have an extra bedroom, but if you aren’t comfortable staying here then you can book a room at a nearby hotel.  Just come? When you can?”_

_He exchanged a look with John, who nodded, and he smiled.  “Yeah, yeah we can do that.  We have a couple weeks leave next month before . . . before we deploy—”_

_“Deploy?”_

_“I’m working with an international science expedition.  John’s part of the military contingent that will be acting as our security.  I can’t really say much about it.”_

_“What have you gotten yourself into now, Mer?”_

 

 

It was dark on the other side of the gate, the lights on their P90s the only thing letting them see around.  One of the soldiers that came through with the first security group broke off and began moving the MALP, getting it out of the way.  The rest of the group was fanning out, moving towards the visible entrances.  As John stepped out into the room lights began coming on, slowly at first and as he headed up the longest flight of stairs with two young marines the room began to brighten considerably.

 

 **“Colonel Sumner, Sir, there’s a large, empty room to the right of the gate room.  We should be able to get most of the equipment and large animals stationed there temporarily. Over.”** Captain Harrison, the highest ranking UK officer’s voice announced over the comm.

 

 **“Understood, Captain,”** Colonel Sumner responded.  **“Secure the room and begin organizing zones for the various equipment.  Keep the essentials closer to the gate room in case we need to leave quickly. Sumner out.”**

**“Copy that.”**

John felt a shiver run through him and glanced down the stairs to eye the security members still fanning out.  The civilians were beginning to come through along with additional military personal.  Rodney was one of the first ones through, along with Dr. Weir and her mate, and John gave him a light mental push.  Rodney blinked up at him Blue eyes wide and a smile forming on his lips as hurried forward, clearing the area in front of the gate.

 

To complete the transfer successfully they had to clear the gate room quickly and efficiently—that included both people and supplies.  They had been given half again as much supplies as they needed, including many additional non-necessities such as personal items that would be coming through at the end of the second wormhole.  What made it through after the first fifteen minutes of the second gate would be completely superfluous.   If things worked out they’d have nearly five hundred people—civilians and military—and enough supplies to last six months, which would hopefully be enough time to get crops growing and a breeding population of chickens for eggs and eventually meat.

 

“Are you turning things on?” Rodney asked as he bounded up the stairs. Even as hurried as he was, his mate was still being really careful due to the cargo he was carrying.  Behind him the civilians were being ushered to the right of the gate if they had large cargos and left towards some smaller sets of rooms and a hallway that had just been cleared if they were just carrying personal items and a few smaller supplies.

 

According to the comm chatter, the first room was for general supplies to be dropped off.  He didn’t bother telling Rodney either any of this as his mate began to uncover the consoles in the room, examining the buttons.  “If I am turning things on, it’s not consciously . . . at least I don’t think.”  John frowned, his eyes squinting up as he surveyed the area.

 

Rodney had taken his pack off, shoving it and Newton’s carrier under the closest pedestal as he leaned in to examine it.  The rush of excitement from him plowed into John and his hands twitched restlessly as he looked around.

 

“We need to figure out how to get to the chair . . .” Rodney trailed off, frowning.  A screen came on behind them, loading the familiar strain of information onto a flat screen.

 

John stared at it and could feel his head begin to hurt, the buzz he now associated with ancient technology practically doubled in intensity.  “Miko should be coming in with the first wave, right?”

 

“Yes, Yes,” Rodney idly answered.  “She wasn’t too far behind me. “

 

“So she’s probably already at the holding point for civilians.” John filled in the blank for himself and clicked his headset as he turned away from the monitor, allowing his mind to clear a little. Clicking his radio down a station, he contacted Lorne who had been put in charge of wrangling the civilians to safe areas.  **“Sheppard to Lorne.”**

**“Lorne here.”**

**“Lorne I need a location on Doctors Kusanagi and Zelenka.  Have them sent ASAP to the gate room and up the main stairs to what appears to be the control area. Over.”**

**“Understood, sir. Lorne out.”**

“They should be here soon.” Sheppard turned back to the display again, frowning at it.  There was something . . . he wished they had the chair.  It had been extremely easy to understand the flow of information from the chair at the Antarctic outpost from the beginning, pushing it to go to the right places in order to find the information they actually needed had been the difficult part.

 

Stepping closer to the display he frowned at it, trying to remember how it had felt to have the outpost in his mind.  The buzz at the edges of his consciousness increased tenfold and he winced, hand coming up to press against his forehead.  Information, still in ancient, was suddenly flying through his mind along with a:

 

_welcomehappytoservewanttoservecan’tservedangerdangersadmissedyouhelp?can’tstopmuststop—_

 

“John?” Rodney’s hands were on his shoulders and he stumbled back a step, eyes flying open to find the concerned and nearly terrified face of his mate.  There was a hint of pain there as well. “You were . . . I felt something across the bond, only it was a jumble of emotions and pain and . . . I thought you were dying for a moment.”

 

“Not dying,” John shook his head.  “I think you need to check the systems though, Atlantis seems worried about something . . . something we can help with?”

 

Rodney frowned, fingers still tensed around John’s arms.  “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

 

“Yes,” John nodded, “for now I will . . . but I really think you should start figuring out what has Atlantis so worried.”

 

“Atlantis spoke to you?”  Miko stated, her soft carried over to them as she appeared with her mate.

 

“Sort of,” John winced, “It was . . . it was almost like the mating bond only it was incredibly different.  More like complex emotions mixed with information so detailed that I could only understand the barest gist of what it was trying to communicate.”

 

Below them the light dimmed a little as the gate turned off.  People cleared the area fast and there was extra chatter going through the comms as people began to get organized for the second wave of equipment.  A science officer, whose patch showed she was from Australia, began to set up a portable communications center nearby along with a young Russian lieutenant.

 

“The horses should be coming through with the first group in this section.” John shrugged off his pack and placed his P90 down next to it.  “I need to head down in case the handlers need assistance.” He’d been pulled for double duty—assisting with the traffic for the second gate and making sure that there was no trouble securing the gate itself.

 

Sumner was asking for initial reports from all of the security teams and gaining the information they’d need to send in the initial report. One of the scientists was compiling the streaming data from the comms and video systems various individuals had on their persons to send back through as quickly as possible. They were surrounded by carefully controlled chaos.

 

Rodney glanced up at him, a question plain on his face.  Smiling a little, John waved away his mate’s worry along with the headache that had built from his unaided contact with Atlantis.  John headed down the stairs, pausing for a second to assist a soldier with moving a cart with a broken wheel out of the way.

 

Word came over the comm that they’d found a room that would work as a temporary home for the horses and other animals down one of the hallways to the right of the gate and John positioned himself accordingly.

 

Getting the horses settled—all five of them, three of which were pregnant—along with their supplies was part of his duty during the second gate.  He still wasn’t thrilled about working with them, but they needed everyone on hand who hand experience with on edge horses and apparently there weren’t that many people on the expedition that had grown up around them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“No. I—I can’t.” John shook his head, extremely thankful that Dr. Weir and those organizing the duties for departure had sent his mate to ask instead of just asking him themselves._

_“It will be what, half an hour of working with them?” Rodney looked down at him, frowning, obviously feeling the panic starting to seep out from him._

_“I just can’t, Rodney.” John pushed himself up, and crossed over to the filing cabinet.  There were dozens of personnel files for those assigned to Atlantis in there, at least one of them had to have as much experience if not more than he did. “I’ll help you find someone else though, there must be someone.”_

_“There are the veterinarians and a few of the civilians have experience and will officially be in charge of them, including taking care of them while we settle into a routine.”_

_“Why do I sense a ‘but’ here?” John asked leaning against the open drawer, staring at the lines of names._

_“They want everyone on board and—”_

_“And?”_

_“I may have mentioned that you grew up around horses at some point.” Rodney sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets.  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.  I know you have issues with them.”_

_“Issues,” John snorted.  Intellectually he knew that it wasn’t the horses fault . . . in no way had the poor mare caused his father’s death.  The fact that he had been on a horse had just been bad timing.  The fault really lay with the man that had crashed into his mother’s car._

_“Issues.” Rodney agreed as he moved around the desk.  John’s office was small, a temporary place built into what amounted to a closet that he shared with Lorne and a Russian officer with the equivalent rank of Major.  “You have ridiculous issues with four legged creatures.  Not that I can’t really blame you, but honestly I think you should work through them.  It wasn’t the horses fault.”_

_“I know.” John closed his eyes and leaned back against Rodney as his mate wrapped his arms around John’s middle.  Rodney’s chin jutted against his shoulder blade and he could feel the warmth of his breath fanning out._

_“At the very least you should go see them before we leave . . . make sure their good stock.  I remember you said your family bred horses when you were younger—you may notice something that others wouldn’t.”_

_And John had gone to see them, visiting the five chosen animals at the stables.  They had chosen two stallions and three mares—all three of which were pregnant.  The horses had been chosen for their strength as well as temperament and DNA.  The biologists hoped that they’d be able to have a couple of small herds and that by the time inbreeding became something to worry about in a few years that they would have regained contact with Earth and thus a way to bring new blood into the population._

_To his surprise, he had fallen in love with one of the mare’s practically on site.  She was a sleek Chestnut with a white star on her forehead.   The site of her sticking her head out of her stall to greet him as he came down the long, dusty passage had caused him to freeze mid-step.  If he hadn’t known better, John would have thought she was his horse from growing up. She wasn’t though, but she was just as gorgeous and her temperament and personality were very similar._

_Everyone called her Magic and he thought it was a perfect fit._

It was Magic that John saw first, coming through the gate with blinders on and only a slightly agitated swish of her tail.  She’d gone through a couple dozen gates in preparation, the experience becoming easier each time.

 

“Hey girl,” John said and watched as her ears flicked in his direction.  He knew she was pregnant, but she wasn’t far along enough for it to be visible to the naked eye, yet. Speaking to the handler, a young woman who was mated to one of the French soldiers, he motioned towards down the hall to where another soldier was positioned at the entryway to the room they’d cordoned off. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Not good.” Rodney stared over Miko’s shoulder.  The petite woman had managed to dig up part of the data they needed.  He wasn’t exactly sure how, but considering how she was rubbing circles on her temples, a wince of pain perpetually on her face, he had to guess that Atlantis had somehow helped.

 

“This is not good at all.”

 

“No it is very not good.”  Radek agreed, meeting Rodney’s eyes as he pressed his glasses up his nose.  “According to this the shield is rapidly losing ground. In less than a day we will need to find a solution or—”

 

“Or die horrible deaths by drowning.” Rodney sighed and tapped his comm.  “Dr. Weir, this is Dr. McKay.”

 

“Rodney!” Elizabeth’s voice came over the radio, wonder and excitement rushing through it.  “You won’t believe what we just found out.  The city is—”

 

“Underwater?” Rodney interrupted her only a bit disappointed that he wasn’t the first to let her in on the news.  “Yes, I know, and therefore is my reason for calling you.”

 

“You know?”

 

“Of course,” Rodney said, going over the data.  “According to our read outs the city is rapidly losing power and it has only gained momentum since we arrived.”

 

“Which means?”  The excitement was gone from her voice, replaced by steely resolve and a hint of worry.

 

“Which means that we have less than a day . . . maybe even closer to twelve hours before the shield completely collapses and the water comes rushing in here.”

 

“I thought you said that Atlantis would be sealed up, like a space ship?”

 

Rodney sighed.  “It should be, but it isn’t.  We’re working on trying to figure out all the issues, but we think there’s some damage that couldn’t be automatically repaired or maybe the ancients  egos were really that big.”

 

“See if you can plug in some of our power sources into the grid, slow down the power drain. Colonel Sumner?”

 

“I’m listening in already.  I have my men holding steady and in many cases pulling back to the central area.  All civilian and non-essential military exploration has been tabled until we figure this out.” 

 

“I could use a few more people in here—Grodin, Simone—Simons or whatever, and anyone else with a lot of experience with Ancient technology, as well as a few translators down here.  I already have Zelenka putting together a team—“

 

Zelenka began cursing in Czech under his breath as he grabbed his equipment.  So Rodney hadn’t actually already given him the order, but he knew what needed to be done.

 

“—to tie in several of our naqueda generators into the power grid. He’s already starting to work on it.  We also found the dialing control for the stargate and what we believe is a database of worlds.  It might be a good idea to start going through them for viable worlds.”

 

“That won’t draw too much power?”  Elizabeth asked.

 

Rodney shook his head as he spoke.  “From what I can tell the gate is drawing power from the ocean along with life support and a few other systems.  The city could run the bare minimum on it, but the shields consume too much power for the hydroelectric system to support.”

 

“Understood.  I’ll start putting a team together.  Sumner out.”  Below them the guards at the gate began to clear the deck so the gate could be operated again.

 

The gate had closed mere minutes before the revelation that Atlantis was in jeopardy and they had no way to contact Earth and let them know. Rodney’s mouth tightened with worry as his eyes moved over the rapidly clearing area in front of the gate.

 

The last thing that had come through the second gate was an additional MALP. Unlike the other MALPS that had come through it wasn’t covered in regular supplies.  In fact the only things on it were bags of candy bars, a random assortment of _toys_ , and a dark green glass bottle positioned in the least precarious spot.  Two technicians were pulling the bags off and stacking them in a corner.

 

When John appeared, Rodney grabbed his mate’s P90 and hurried down the stairs to greet him.  He’d already heard the order for a team to go through the gate and find a suitable world.  It hadn’t taken long for Atlantis to provide them with a shortlist of worlds from the database for them to attempt dialing first.

 

The soldiers around them barely spared them a glance as Rodney handed his John his gun, watching him secure it and a few other pieces of equipment another soldier handed him.  Rodney reached up and gripped the back of John’s neck, pulling him in for a quick, passionate kiss. His mate would be going through, but for this trip he’d have to stay behind.

 

By the time the MALP was clear and in position to go through the gate again, someone was already dialing it.  Unlike Earth’s gate, the Chevron’s were blue and the symbols appeared more electronic in nature, mostly due to the fact that their constellations were made of glowing blue dots that lit up as the gate was dialed.  The entire process was much smoother and even slightly faster than what they were used to.

 

The swoosh of the event horizon, however, hadn’t changed at all.  The MALP was quickly dispatched and after an efficient sweep of the area surrounding the gate, Rodney watched as his mate waved at him over his shoulder and barely managed to send a wave of encouragement, waving back as John disappeared.

 

His insides seized for a moment before calming as the event horizon disengaged.  There was a creeping emptiness at the back of his mind. It wasn’t the same as if he wasn’t mated, but he could feel John’s mental distance like the loss of a limb. John was alive and that was all he knew.

 

Turning, his eye caught on the lone bottle of Champagne stacked on top of the bags of candy.  Leaning down he picked it up and flipped open the plain card that was attached to it. Rodney chuckled lightly as he read, trying to keep from giggling madly ad the irony of the statement.

 

Not even two hours into the expedition and all their lives were already in mortal peril. Good Voyage indeed.

 

_Bon Voyage, General Jack O’Neill_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of this chapter, dialogue wise, are taken from Stargate Atlantis Episode 1 Rising. I cut a section out of the end of this chapter and moved it to the next chapter for reasons. I'm not sure I like the last bit of dialogue but my brain hurts and I wanted to post. Also, part Four probably won't be out for 2-3 weeks. Depending on time as I'm rewriting more than I thought I would and expanding on one section more than I thought I would. I hope this part is enjoyable and this is the part in the fic where I really start to get to my whole point of this fic: explaining the existence of Mating.
> 
> I'm also avoiding Teen Wolf mostly till Monday since it's season finale was leaked by an itunes!fail, so while I may post a new part to that fic in this !verse tomorrow it may not be until Wednesday so my brain has time to process so I won't have to rewrite anything.
> 
> Again this part wasn't beta-ed, so if there's an error its mine and mine alone (and feel free to point it out so I can fix it.

John blinked, letting his eyes adjust to seeing the world through the night vision goggles he was wearing.  The world they had stepped into reminded him of Earth, but then so far _all_ of the worlds he had visited had climates and flora similar to locations he’d been to on Earth.  There was nothing inherently ‘alien’ about it, at least not that he could see at the moment.  It was night out, but there was no moon visible in the sky, just a heck of a lot of stars.  The night sky was littered with them, a testament to this world’s lack of air and light pollution.

 

Ahead of him, Sumner was giving orders to fan out, leaving Captain Markham and his mate Master Sergeant Stackhouse in charge of guarding the gate.  They moved steadily across the open field—maybe more of a large meadow as it was surrounded entirely by forest—towards the tree line.   As he neared it, rustling among the underbrush just within the trees caught his attention.  Seconds later two small bodies came hurtling out, one chasing the other.

 

It took him a bare moment to realize what it was, enough time to sight his weapon in preparation for danger.

 

“Hold fire!” He ordered, dropping his weapon to his side and relaxing slightly, “It’s just a couple of kids.”  Nearby he heard the audible sigh of relief made by one of the younger marines—an officer—that Sumner had handpicked.

 

In front of them two boys, he estimated were about twelve or thirteen years old were practically frozen in place.  The smaller of the two had moved just enough to pull the ugly mask from his face, revealing a look of panic.

 

“Jinto!” A man, who John assumed was the father of at least one of the boys, rushed out of the forest.  He paused mere feet from John, splaying his hands out in front of him fingers apart.  “I am unarmed and no threat to you. I apologize for my son and his friend—they know not to be running around after dark, but I fear I have been unable to keep them from eluding the watch on occasion.”

 

“It’s no problem, kids will be kids,” John leaned back, relaxing further.  He glanced at the young officer, wracking his mind for a name.  “Right Ford?”

 

“Yes, Sir.” Ford agreed, slipping his night vision goggles onto his forehead and plastering a smile onto his face.

 

The man looked between them and then towards Sumner and Sergeant Bates who were making their way towards them.  His eyes finally returned to John and he smiled tentatively.  “Halling.”

 

John blinked.  “Uh, I don’t really know what that means . . .”

 

“It’s his name.” Sumner sounded a bit irritated and maybe understandably so.  They hadn’t exactly expected to run into anyone on this planet.  Maybe they should have, though.

 

“Oh.”

 

“I’m Colonel Sumner and this is Lt. Col John Sheppard, Lt. Ford., and Sgt. Bates.”

 

“This is my son Jinto and his friend Wex.” Halling motioned to the two pre-teens, scolding his son with a slight glare.  “Have you come to trade?” he asked, eyes searching each of them.

 

Sumner exchanged a look with John and then nodded.  “Yes, we’ve come to trade.”

 

“I shall take you to Teyla then,” Halling nodded, a smile growing on his face.  “It is early, but she should see you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not far into the forest a path cleared as if the entry had been purposefully disguised and John supposed it probably had.  From what little they had seen it didn’t seem as if these people had much more than the basic defenses—Halling certainly wasn’t carrying weapons.

 

“What was that mask you had on?” Jinto asked as he and the other boy, Wex, fell in step with John.

 

John looked over at them and removed his night vision goggles, handing them to the boy.  “It helps you see in the dark, check it out.”

 

“Whoa!” Jinto exclaimed as he held them to his eyes.  He spun a little, staring at their surroundings with awe.

 

“Can I see?” Wex asked and, surprisingly, Jinto handed it over immediately.  The smaller boy was wearing the monster mask again and he placed it over the eye holes. “Whoa! Can I have it?”

 

John smiled, amused by the typical question.  “No,” he reached out to take it from him and Wex handed it over without pause.  As he placed the goggles back on his own head he ventured his own question, “What’s the mask you’ve got on?”

 

“This?” Wex asked, pulling it off and holding it up.  “Wraith.”

 

“Wraith, what’s that?” John asked, taking it from Wex and examining it.  The mask was made of animal hide and shaped like a humanoid, with only a few slight differences around the nose and cheeks.  There were also sharp animal teeth stuck into the place where the mouth would have been if it hadn’t ended above the lower jaw.  

 

“You don’t know?” Jinto asked, obviously shocked. “What world are you from?”

 

“Can we go there?” Wex asked, excited and with an edge of emotion that John thought might be something akin to desperation.

 

“I’m afraid not,” John smiled with a touch of sadness as he handed the mask back.  “We’re from a galaxy far, far away.”

 

The path was well worn and clearly taken care off.  Trees and brush lined it, but no vegetation was growing into the path indicating that the people of this world kept it clear and usable.  It was big enough for a cart, but not much wider than that.  About halfway to the small village they began seeing light posts.  One of the marine’s investigated it and reported that there was burning oil inside of what looked to be an adapted light fixture that could have once been powered by electricity.  As they neared the village it became more and more obvious that however simple these people lived now, they or the people who had lived here before them had been much more technologically advanced.

 

As Halling led them through a sprawl of tents, made out of a durable material that was obviously machine made.  It looked as if everything had been scavenged from cities and repurposed for use by a tribal society.  People stared, coming out from tents to watch as they walked through.  John waved at a couple of kids, smiling his friendliest smile.

 

People didn’t stop to gawk at them for long, turning away to go back to the business they had been doing before being interrupted.  John thought it spoke to strangers arriving on their world not being too far out of the ordinary.  Halling led them to the center of the camp, guiding the around trees.  He could hear the lapping of water against a shore nearby and after a moment realized that the trees most of the tents huddled beneath ended not far from the shore of a wide lake.

 

Before pushing open the entry to the tent, Halling spoke, calling to those inside.  “It is Halling, I bring men from away.”

 

“Enter.” A velvety feminine voice spoke, much younger sounding then John had expected.  When Halling had indicated he was taking them to a woman, John had assumed that she must be some sort of village elder.

 

Halling entered first and held the tent flap open for them, allowing them to follow after.  Sumner motioned for Bates and a couple others to stay outside.  He entered first and John followed, Lt. Ford followed him in.

 

A woman stood when they entered, a smile slowly fading on her lips into a more stoic expression.  Halling walked over to her, leaning down slightly to speak.  “These men wish to trade.”

 

She eyed them then, one at a time, taking in the details of their person.  John took a moment to glance around the tent.  While the tent itself was machine made—at least the material—the inside was line with hide’s and furs. A long table, looking like a pieced together picnic table was covered in pillows and blankets for comfort.  Various decorations, handmade statues and other personal items littered the space, most of which seemed to be able to serve dual purposes.  Their clothing was a similar amalgamation of different styles and material.

 

John removed the goggles and ran a hand through his hair, trying to be as friendly as possible.  “Uh, sorry.  It’s nice to meet you.”

 

“I am Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Tagan.” She eyed them as she spoke, chin lifted slightly, throwing off an air of authority.  It was clear that she was young but also experienced in her place as leader or trader—John wasn’t sure which.  It was obvious, however, that her people looked to her in order to deal with outsiders.

 

“Colonel Marshall Sumner,”  Sumner spoke and then introduced John and Ford.  “Colonel Sheppard and Lieutenant Ford.  We have very few specific needs—”

 

“We do not trade with strangers.”  Teyla cut him off, eyes narrowing.

 

“Well then, we’ll just have to get to know each other.” John spoke up before Sumner could reply. “Me, uh, I like ferris wheels, college football, and, uh, anything that goes more than two hundred miles an hour.”

 

Ford eyed him startled and leaned towards him, speaking low.  “Sir, that’s not going to mean anything to them.”

 

“I’m trying to play nice,” John replied even softer than Ford had.

 

“If these people can’t help us,” Sumner murmured in his ear. “I’d rather know now than waste our time.”

 

Teyla spoke then, louder than strictly necessary, “Each morning before dawn my people enjoy a stout tea to get ready for the coming day. Will you join us?”

 

Sumner sighed next to him, looking around the room.  Ignoring his commanding officer, John stepped forward, smiling wider. “I love a good cup of tea.” He heard Ford’s make a noise behind him and realized that his attitude could possibly be misconstrued as flirting, but if it got them information and maybe a place to stay if it came do that . . . He knew his mate would understand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It had been several generations since the last time travelers came to Athos that they had not had previous contact with.  Most people that came to their world carried goods with them to trade or occasionally the remnants of their belongings as they fled from a world that had been culled.  Still, many years had passed since the last time refuges had come through the ring of the ancestors.  Most went to unoccupied worlds and then moved on to worlds they were allied with or had family on.

 

None of Athos’ allies had been culled since the last great culling—at least not in great numbers. The wraith in recent years had culled no more than a few individuals at a time before leaving.  The darts had not even come to Athos since Teyla’s childhood. 

 

That did not mean the thought of the Wraith did not bring her personal pain.  Teyla’s own mother had been among the last group to be taken.  The Wraith were not gone, they all knew that, for there had always been periods of time where the wraith slept for years, sometimes generations.  If the Wraith held to their pattern it would be perhaps another few generations before they returned in force; long enough for her people to replenish the population that had been diminished by the last great culling.

 

The traders, if that was even what they were, were unlike any people she had met in all her years.   One of the most advanced worlds she heard of was Sateda the people of that world, what remained of them, were scattered and broken. There’s had been the last world to experience a major culling.  Everyone knew that it had grown too advanced and too powerful—that the Satedians had begun forming plans to strike back at those that had cowed them for millennia.

 

Then they were gone and many of the medicines and manufactured goods that came from Sateda were rare luxuries that were guarded again.  If these people had access to even a small fraction of what the Satedians had . . . it could make things much easier for Athos.

 

Or more difficult. They would have to be careful.

 

As they spoke, however, it became apparent that these men were not from around here or, if they were, then their world had kept itself closed off in a manner that was unheard of from the rest of the galaxy for generations, if not longer.  They had no concept of what the Wraith were and she was unsure if their ignorance was refreshing or worthy of pity.  No matter how insular their community may have been before, they were traveling through the gateway now and eventually the Wraith would learn of them.

 

As dawn broke and the day began, her fellow Athosians stood and excused themselves.  As they exited the tent they secured the flaps of the tent, tying two complete sides up to let in the slowly brightening day.

 

Colonel Sumner and Lieutenant Ford followed Halling out in order to speak with the rest of their party.  He wanted to send a messenger to speak with a leader on their world.  The friendliest man of the group—and the only one who didn’t seem to look down on her—stayed behind.

 

Kanaan did not leave either, instead moving to her side, eyeing Sheppard uneasily.  “Are you sure about them? They have weaponry that could upset the Wraith should they hear of them.”

 

“We cannot live in fear, Kanaan.” Teyla replied and then nodded towards the outside.  “I will be fine.”

 

Kanaan grasped her arms and she allowed him to touch their foreheads together.  She smiled and him, watching as he left the room.

 

“Your mate seems like a very nice person,” Sheppard said, nodding after Kanaan.  “You are lucky to have him.”

 

Teyla frowned, brows knitting together and she tilted her head curiously. “Mate?”  It wasn’t a term she had heard used in the manner he seemed to be implying it, at least outside of animals such as the few herd animals they kept.

 

“Uh, bonded?” Sheppard’s smile froze and he swallowed.  “I’m sorry if I read you wrong, you just seem close.”

 

She recognized the basic meaning behind the term bonded, but the way he was speaking was as if it was, perhaps, something more than a familial contract between individuals.  “Kanaan and I are friends, nothing more.  We have known each other since childhood,” Teyla let a sad smile flow onto her features.  “His father was taken in the same culling as my mother.”

 

Sheppard looked as if he was about to ask something, but he was interrupted by the return of his leader.  He straightened noticeably, hand sliding down to his firearm—not as if to use it, but to appear at the ready.  She understood then that Sheppard respected the other man, even if the respect was not necessarily returned.

 

“Ma’am,” Sumner began, acknowledging her.  “We noticed a city across the valley . . . does it belong to your people?”

 

Teyla’s eyes flickered in the general direction of the ruins.  Their curiosity did them no favors, but it had been generations since an Athosian had entered the old city . . . perhaps the danger was gone.  “The city was built by our ancestors, but had been abandoned for many, many generations.  Since before the last great culling.”

 

Sumner glanced at Sheppard before continuing.  “With your permission I’d like to send a recon team to check out the ruins, see if there is anything that may help my people.”

 

“The city of the ancestors is not safe.” Eidrin said from behind them.  He was carrying hides for inspection.  They had been planning to visit some of their allies on other worlds to trade for vegetables that were out of season on Athos.  “If you go there the Wraith _will_ come.”

 

“We can handle ourselves,” Sumner tried to assure her, but Teyla just pursed her lips.  They knew nothing of the Wraith and if the Satedians had fallen, so would they.

 

“You do not know the Wraith,” Teyla stepped forward, turning her attention to Sheppard. “If the Wraith have never touched your world then you should go back.”

 

Sheppard grimaced and his gaze flickered to his leader as he spoke.  “Oh, we’d like to, but we can’t.  See, here’s the thing, Ma’am, we’ve gotten ourselves into a bind and we might need a safe place to stay for a while.”

 

Teyla sighed; they were stubborn in their innocence.  “Our people have long believed that the Wraith will come if we venture into the old city.  _But_ it is a belief we have not tested in some time.” She pursed her lips and looked outside the tent as Jinto and several other children ran past.  Praying to the ancestors, Teyla hoped she would not end up regretting this.  “Perhaps it is time we do.”

 

“Teyla! Are you sure—”

 

“Eidrin, perhaps you could see if Halling or anyone else would be willing to accompany them?  There may be dangers that they would not recognize, but an Athosian would.”

 

His jaw clenched, but Eidrin dropped the hides onto a mat and left the tent, following her directions.

 

She turned back to the strangers and lifted her chin.  “While we have traveled there for generations, there are several among us, including Halling, that should be able to identify anything to be wary of.”

 

“Thank you Ma’am, we’ll be careful.” Sumner paused then and turned to Sheppard.  “Perhaps Colonel Sheppard could stay behind and learn more about the Wraith.”

 

“Sounds like fun,” Sheppard nodded, smiling.  While he seemed genuinely pleased to be doing so, Teyla recognized the order and acknowledgement for what it was.

 

Once he was gone Teyla turned her attention to Sheppard again.  “Your leader looks through me as if I am not here.”

 

“Do I?” Sheppard asked, eyebrow rising.

 

No, he didn’t, and even though he put on a façade of flirtation that had Kanaan and Eidrin on edge, she could tell he didn’t view her as a warm body to fill his bed, but as a person in her own right.  She was glad for it, there were some worlds were equality was measured by gender and it was always difficult to work them them—especially when most viewed woman as the less equal sex.

 

“Colonel Sheppard, there is something I think you should see.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**“Colonel Sumner has taken a team to recon some ruins that may possibly have something we could use or at the very least serve as a temporary shelter.”**

“Understood.  Thank you for keeping us updated on the situation, Captain Markham.”

 

**“Of course, Ma’am.  We’ll check in again in two hours. Markham out.”**

 

Elizabeth sighed as the wormhole cut off, dropping their connection.  The scientists had managed to get some of their equipment set up, at least enough to assume a semblance of the type of stargate operations they were used to.  As of yet they were still working on finding a solution to the power issues. 

 

Plugging the Naqueda generators into the power grid had done nothing to stave off the collapse of the shield—the only thing it had done was begin depleting the generators.  They’d had to turn them off almost immediately in order to avoid losing them entirely.

 

“Is there any way to get us to the surface?” She asked, turning to Rodney and the other scientists.

 

“Yes, I could push a magic button and Atlantis would rise up out of the water.” Rodney answered sarcastically, setting his tablet pc down.  He sighed, “Sorry, Elizabeth.  The only way know of to do that would be to use the control chair, which we still haven’t located.”

 

“The database we have accessed is disorganized,” Miko put in, biting her lip and motioning towards the main monitor.  “It is even worse than the outpost.”

 

“I thought this one would be easier to navigate than the one on Earth?” Elizabeth frowned.

 

“Newer does not necessarily mean easier,” Zelenka shook his head.  “It is much different than the one in the Antarctic and still alien. It is almost as if someone removed any search utility there may have been.”

 

“And it doesn’t help that we think it has an AI that is in desperate need of maintenance.” Rodney groused, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. His insides were itching and the gate being open for the last checking, allowing him to check in with John through their bond, hadn’t helped him much.

 

“An AI?” Elizabeth paled, pulling away from the console she was leaning against.

 

“A limited AI, but yes an AI.  Even the outpost had one.” Rodney waved a dismissive hand.  “It’s not dangerous, but its systems seem to have been jumbled by the isolation . . . or maybe we just don’t have strong enough gene carriers available.”

 

“Should I have Colonel Sheppard recalled?”

 

“No,” Rodney shook his head, turning his attention back his laptop. Even if he actually did want his mate to come back, they weren’t at the point it was mission critical for him to be there. “Atlantis couldn’t get its point across very well with him, either.  We might just be too different from the Ancients for it. Any adaptation we could try and do would still likely involve using the chair which we, once again, have no idea where is.”

 

**“Major Lorne to Doctor Weir.”**

 

“Weir here.”

 

**“We’ve had a bit of difficulty keeping some of the civilians in the safe zones.  I have my men doing head counts, but it wouldn’t hurt to give them an update on the situation.”**

“I’ll take that into consideration, Major. Is there anything else?”

 

**“Actually, a couple things, but . . . one of the civilians we found managed to turn on some sort of hologram.  We turned it off, but the story it told could be a big help to understanding what happened in this Galaxy.”**

“What do you mean?” Elizabeth frowned, turning away from the scientists and heading across a bridge to another room.

 

**“Well, from what they heard apparently the Ancients ran into an enemy that, excuse my language, kicked their asses.  They ran from them—they left Atlantis and returned to Earth, completely _abandoning_ the city and the rest of this Galaxy to their enemy.”**

The hike wasn’t terribly long, but there were some areas of the old trail that was difficult to maneuver.   John felt like a clumsy child as he followed Teyla, stumbling down inclines she traversed with grace. About a forty five minute walk from the village they found themselves at the entrance to a cave, hidden in a Cliffside.

 

Teyla picked up a torch near the entrance and lit it, using an impressive lighter.  “I believe this is where my ancestors hid during the last great culling.”

 

John followed her down a long hallway towards an open room.  The cave had either been carved out of the hillside or expanded upon by the people that hid there.  The walls were relatively even and covered in glyphs and images, depictions of events that had happened long ago.

 

“Is this the city?” John asked, moving towards one particular carving.  Above what looked like a city scape was what could only be a ship.  Nearby there were humanoid figures, several of which were flying into the sky, looking as if they were caught in some sort of net.

 

“Yes.  I believe that tells the story of the last culling that caused my people to abandon the city.”

 

“When you say culling you mean . . .?” John asked, trailing off.

 

She turned to him and met his gaze. Her lips pressed together into a frown before she sighed, opening them to speak, “When the Wraith come to reap their human herds.”

 

His insides froze as he finally understood exactly what that meant.  Before he had just assumed that Teyla and the other Athosians were discussing raiders—humans or aliens—who destroyed, killed, and took goods and even people.

 

“They take people . . . for food?”

 

Teyla inclined her head.  “We believe so, but it is difficult to know—outside of some rumors from worlds where the Wraith have come through the gate on foot.  None of our people who were taken have ever returned.”

 

A death sentence . . . to lose loved ones in such a manner, to not be able to say goodbye to them . . . John could understand how much that hurt.

 

“It must be difficult.”

 

“It is, but some of us can sense them.”

 

Something caught his eye then, a glint of metal within the dirt that covered the rocky surface of the floor. “Oh, hey.” Leaning down he scooped it up and realized it was a necklace.

 

“I lost that long ago!” Teyla exclaimed, moving closer to him.  In the lamplight it almost looked like the center gem was glowing.  The clasp looked easy enough to use and intact.

 

“Here,” John moved towards her.  She tensed a little, drawing in a breath as he slipped it around his neck and snapped it shut.

 

Her eyes moved over his shoulder as he stepped back and she cleared her throat.  “We should get going, it will be dark soon.”

 

“Really?” John turned towards the entry and then looked back at her.  “The days go by quick here.”

 

“Quicker than some,” she acknowledged and brushed past him, leading the way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sky darkened quickly as they made their way back to camp.  Teyla was pushing on at a faster pace than she had on the way back and he almost struggled to keep up.  They were nearing the village, close enough to see the lights in the distance, breaking through the gaps between trees, when Teyla froze.

 

“Teyla?” he asked, stepping close to her. 

 

Her eyes were scanning the skies and a shudder ran through her body.  “ _Wraith._ ”  She took off at a dead run, rushing towards the village.

 

A distinct whine whirred over head in the distance—engines John realize and within moments he was off, running after Teyla.

 

In the distance he could hear gunfire, clicking his radio John called for a status report, but all he got was a jumbled mess.  Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of something and froze, dropping into a crouch. Something swirled out of the dark and he fired into the brush.  There was a weight in his mind unlike anything he had felt before.  All his senses told him there was someone behind him and he swerved, ready to fire only to find Teyla appearing out of the dark.

 

“Stop firing, there is nothing there.”

 

“What?” John dropped the gun a little, pointing it away from her.

 

“The Wraith can make you see things that are not there.”  Teyla turned then, moving once again towards the village. “We must hurry!”

 

The gunfire and shouts got louder the closer they got and John tapped on his comm as he realized his fellow soldiers were firing into the woods. “Fire at the ships! They don’t have troops on the ground—it’s all in our heads!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“We’re losing power faster than expected,” Zelenka said before Dr. Weir had a chance to say anything.

 

“What can we do?” She asked, turning to Rodney.

 

“What can we do?” Rodney practically growled. “Nothing unless it involves finding a ZPM or the chair!”

 

“What about sending out more search parties?”

 

He hated working with people were ten steps behind him, but then there weren’t that many people that could actually keep up, especially in a crisis situation.  For all that he and Samantha Carter didn’t get along very well—which was entirely her loss—he missed her ability to keep up with and, admittedly, on occasion think ahead of him.  She was very creative when it came to solutions, even if her theories were on occasion.

 

“The search parties are part of the problem.  The more people we send out the more systems seem to come on automatically and drain even more power.  Miko is trying to reroute some of the systems to the hydroelectric generators, but—”

 

Zelenka let out a stream of Czech, interrupting him.  “I found it!”

 

“You found it?” Rodney straightened, rushing over to the engineer.

 

“Yes, I believe so.  It is down several floors . . .” Zelenka looked up as Dr. Weir looked over his shoulder.

 

“Major Lorne’s team is the closest.” Elizabeth tapped the comm. **“Major Lorne, this is Dr. Weir.”**  She moved away, speaking with the major.

 

“What’s the easiest way to get there?” Rodney asked, gather the things his computer.

 

Miko frowned at her screen and then nodded. “I shall lead the way.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Incoming wormhole!” Dr. Grodin called, including his announcement on the main comm system for the military. He hit the button they had discovered that controlled the gates iris like force field.  Elizabeth cringed, knowing how much power was already an issue.

 

Captain Teldy appeared below, calling out orders to the security forces that had been assembled since the moment Colonel Sumner took his team through the gate. 

 

“Is it Colonel Sumner?”  Elizabeth asked, looking over her shoulder at Grodin who was managing stargate operations.

 

“I’m not –” The computer bleeped interrupting him. “—Receiving Sergeant Stackhouse’s IDC.”

 

“Open the iris!” She commanded as the Sergeant’s voice came over the radio, requesting permission to return to Atlantis. **“You’re clear Sergeant.”**

 

Stackhouse and Markham appeared almost immediately, crossing over the event horizon.  Moving towards the stairs, Elizabeth was startled by what seemed like dozens of people—people she didn’t recognize and were most certainly not part of the team she’d sent through.

 

“Keep moving!” Colonel Sheppard called as exited the wormhole, ushering people inside.  “Captain, call for medical support and get these people somewhere safe.  I want this room cleared as soon as possible. And have team delta gear up!”

 

“Yes, sir!” Teldy answered, not even questioning why Colonel Sumner wasn’t the one giving the order.

 

“Colonel!” Elizabeth yelled, setting her jaw as she moved down the stairs.  “Who are all these people?”

 

Sheppard moved through the crowd towards her and winced a little.  “Refuges, we were attacked.”

 

“By the people—”

 

“By the _Wraith_.” As the wormhole closed behind him and the Athosians he froze, frowning.  “What’s going on? Where’s Rodney at?”

 

“They found the command chair. He’s meeting Major Lorne there with Dr. Kusanagi.” Elizabeth pursed her lips.  “If they aren’t able to find a solution to our power issue we’re going to have to abandon Atlantis within an hour.”

 

“Well going back there is a really, _really_ bad idea.”

 

“I’m not so sure we’re going to have much of a _choice_.”

 

Sheppard clenched his jaw and Elizabeth could see the muscle clench. “Jinto!”

 

“Yes?” A boy appeared from the crowd, pushing his way towards him.  He couldn’t have been older than twelve, but he appeared to be handling the entire situation remarkably well.

 

“He’s just a boy.” Elizabeth couldn’t stop the comment before it left her lips and tried to ignore the look the Colonel gave her.

 

“Do you know any other worlds we could go to? Worlds that are safe, at least for a little while?”

 

“Many!” Jinto nodded.

 

Sheppard snagged his arm only to freeze, eyes focusing on nothing.

 

“Colonel?” Elizabeth asked stepping towards him.  She was interrupted by the floor lurching beneath their feet.  It took a few seconds for Elizabeth to realize what was going on, her initial panic setting in before the logical side of her mind cold take over.

 

Atlantis was rising.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Atlantis was buzzing in his mind the moment the gate opened and by the time he stepped across the horizon it was nearly overriding his senses.  John tried to ignore it to the best of his ability, but it was difficult.  He reached out to Rodney and could barely feel his mate over the torrent _of information-emotions_ coming from the city.

 

He forced himself to give orders to the highest ranking officer in the gate room, Captain Anne Teldy, but his concentration was interrupted by Dr. Weir storming down the steps and demanding to know what he was thinking, bringing the Athosians to Atlantis considering their situation.

 

All he really wanted to do was find Rodney and reaffirm their bond.  He could still feel the dark shade that was the Wraith in the back of his mind—he knew it was nothing but a sense memory, but that didn’t stop the creeping feeling across his skin.

 

Calling Jinto to him, he snagged the kid’s arm only to freeze as the information he was getting from _the_ _city_ suddenly sharpened and became understandable.  Major Lorne was sitting in the chair; he realized he could recognize the person pushing through the systems.  Atlantis was adapting its communication ability based on the first direct contact she’d had with an individual for millennia.

 

 _Rise. Get to the Surface.  We need to be on the surface._ He told her, repeating the same requests that Lorne was.

 

_Locked—can’t—wantto—override?—pleasehelp—wanttohelp—needcommandcode—lockedsystems_

_We don’t have the command codes.  Our ancestors didn’t leave them for us,_ John thought to her, pleading.  _They thought they’d be back but they didn’t have the resources on Earth. There was an enemy._

_Wraith—bedevil—comedestoryhurt—runrunrunleaveAtlantis—gonealone_

_We don’t want to leave you, but we can’t stay unless you rise._

 

Atlantis was silent for a moment and then, _Riseandstay?—notalone—staylivehere—inmekeepsafeyoume_

_If you rise._ John promised.  _If you rise we will stay and repair you and you won’t be alone anymore.  You can protect us and we’ll protect you._

_Needcommandcode—statecommandcode_

_I don’t know the command code._

_Statethecommand—Code_

John searched his mind and he could tell Lorne was at a loss as well.  Desperately he focused his attention back on the AI, pleading.  _Rise, Atlantis Rise._

 

_Commandcodeaccepted—AtlantisRising._

 

 

 

 

“Are you crazy?” Rodney asked, breathing heavily from rushing up dozens of flights of stairs.  For the first time he actually wished he’d followed John’s advice about getting into better shape.  He just hadn’t expected to have to trek down nearly thirty flights of stairs.  Considering the Ancients were so advanced, you’d think they would have created easier ways to get around.  Like escalators.

 

“I thought you already knew the answer to that question.”  He slipped another magazine into a pocket, adjusting it for ease of access.

 

“Of course I know the answer to that question,” Rodney scoffed and stalked towards where the extra gear was stowed.  One of the Sergeants had already organized everything for ease of access.  “Now help me get geared up so we can go on your extremely _insane_ rescue mission.”

 

John paled.  “You’re not going—”

 

“Bullshit,” Rodney turned towards him, vest in hand, “I am going and nothing you can say will stop me.  You’re going to need someone that can figure out alien systems quickly and other than Dr. Kusanagi—who had worse scores on the firing range than I did and you know it—I’m you’re best source.  Not to mention the fact that _you aren’t leaving me behind._ I believe your stupid military establishment has rules against that.”

 

“You aren’t military.”

 

“No,” Rodney acknowledged as he began buckling and zipping the vest on over his tan uniform.  “But I’m SGC and so that might as well make me military.  You are my mate and I’m not letting you run off on a suicide mission without me.”

 

“Rodney—”

 

“I’m going. End of discussion.” Rodney glared at him, daring him mentally along with his eyes to protest.

 

“I was going to say you’re securing that wrong.” John smiled and moved over to his mate.

 

“Oh,” Rodney looked down at himself and huffed.  “Well, I did ask for your help.”

 

“Then let me give it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Major Lorne was the one to suggest the use of the small space craft’s they’d found—which John promptly dubbed Puddle Jumpers, much to Rodney’s dismay. While Elizabeth protested at the use of them, but John was insistent and his arguments were sound, especially after sending and promptly losing a MALP to the vacuum of space.

 

It had been obvious that Elizabeth hadn’t quite been able to accept the information that John had shared—the fact that the Wraith supposedly _ate_ humans—butshe couldn’t refute the fact that according to the Athosians the Wraith had systematically chased down and wiped out anyone with a high level of technology. The evidence they’d already found during their limited exploration of Atlantis had only backed it up.

 

The rescue plan had been hastily put together, but was more thought out in comparison to some plans that the Stargate program had enacted over the years.  In the end they had decided to use two of the small ships, one of which would have only a flight crew to be stationed in orbit—cloaked of course.

 

Rodney was sitting behind him in the first jumper, attempting to hack the jumpers systems, looking for anything that could help them.   As John brought the small craft down into the atmosphere, Rodney started snapping his fingers.

 

“There should be some sort of portable life sign detector—” the moment Rodney mentioned it, and John’s thoughts turned towards it, a panel slid open to John’s right, revealing a small rectangular device.

 

“Huh.” Rodney reached around him and snagged it.  The screen lit up, but it was dim, a testament to Rodney’s weak ATA gene.  He scowled and pressed it against John’s back, watching as the screen automatically brightened.

 

Next to John, Ford snickered, unable to hold back his amusement.

 

“What do you see?” John asked as he focused on how to locate the Wraith base—or ship—that was on this planet.  Immediately a display of the planet popped up along with a flight path. He corrected course immediately and focused on transmitting their course to the other Jumper.

 

“A basic grid outline of the gate shi— _jumper_ ,” Rodney corrected himself, irritation at being overrode in regards to the name still evident. A wave of amusement from John flitted to him, but he ignored it and the smirk his mate was obviously toting, “And eight dots indicating the team.”

 

“Useful.”

 

“But not as useful as it could be,” Rodney groused, shifting behind him.  “I’m going to see if I can get it to display a little more detail . . .” he trailed off, his entire focus on the little device.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Wraith base was in the side of a mountain, covered in trees and dirt.  It was hard to tell if it had been built into the mountain side or next to it only to eventually becoming engulfed in it.  They landed in a clearing not too far away from what appeared to be the easiest way in, but where there was enough cover to hide the jumper, even without the cloak.

 

“All right teams of two, learn what you can and lay down defenses as you see fit. I want to be able to light this place up if we have to. Smitty, Peirce keep the Jumper clear for a quick exit!”  John called out as they cleared the area around the Jumper. 

 

“Markham and Stackhouse I want you two to set charges around the Wraith base.” John tossed Markham the second life signs detector Rodney had located in the back of the jumper.  The Captain had the gene and it was even a bit stronger than Rodney’s. “Unless you happen to run into prisoners get out of there as soon as you’ve laid all your charges.  Two clicks and you’re cleared to talk—”

 

“Yes, sir!” Markham acknowledged, moving back into the Jumper to grab some more C4 from the hastily packed supplies.

 

“—Do _not_ engage the enemy! Ford, you’re with me and Rodney.” John clasped the young marine’s shoulder as he passed, staring down at the life signs detector in his hand.

 

“We’re all gonna die,” Rodney muttered under his breath, following after his mate as they rushed towards the entry they had located on the flyby.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Wraith outpost was dimly lit by glowing panels and the walls almost seemed organic.  The ground was dirty and moisture clung in the air, so thick that there was almost a mist swirling around their feet as they walked.

 

“This is amazing!” Rodney exclaimed, voice quiet.  John had already shushed him once.

 

“Disgusting is more like it.” Ford muttered as they avoided yet another unknown dot passing by an adjacent corridor.

 

“Rodney, is there a way to zoom this thing out?” John held it towards his mate as they paused in a corridor.

 

“Maybe, I’m not sure.” Rodney moved closer, hooking his gun onto his vest in order to get a better look at it.  He didn’t take it from John, instead just examined it while it was still in John’s grasp.

 

“I think . . . yes there.  There are three different groups of three or more dots . . . two of them are close to each other.”

 

“That’s probably the prison cells.” John nodded. “We should go there first.”

 

“Let me see . . . there.” Rodney stepped back, dropping his hands from it.  “It should point you towards them now.

 

“Excellent.” John turned, bringing the detector into his site, holding it against his gun.  “This way it is.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

It didn’t take long for them to reach the area that Rodney had indicated.  It was ridiculously easy for them to avoid the dots that John assumed indicated the Wraith—he doubted that they had ever needed to worry about enemy incursions, at least not since the Ancients left.  If what Teyla and the other Athosians had indicated was true, other than the Wraith there was almost no one that had any power in the skies let alone the ability to travel through space.

 

Teyla was the first to see him, and she exclaimed, “Colonel!” eyes widening when she did.

 

“ _Shh._ We don’t want to alert the Wraith,” John commanded, voice hush.

 

She straightened and nodded once as he got closer.  “How did you find us?” Teyla whispered, voice as low as she could make it while still enabling him to understand her.

 

“Is my son alive?” Halling asked from behind her.

 

“Yes, he’s on our world, waiting for you.” John nodded.  Behind him, Rodney was examining what he guessed was the control panel, trying to gain access to it.  His gaze roved over the small group.  “Do you know where Colonel Sumner is?” he asked Bates, the highest ranking soldier.

 

“He was taken by the Wraith.” Bates grimaced.

 

“We do not know where,” Teyla continued, her face shifting with a hint of sadness.

 

“How about when?”

 

“Not long.” She shook her head and eyed his weapon before glancing towards Rodney.

 

“Well shit,” John glanced towards Rodney, trying to gauge how long it would take him.

 

“It’s going to take time,” Rodney answered his unasked question without even looking at him.  “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

 

“Great,” John sighed and clicked his radio twice. 

 

**“This is Stackhouse, go ahead, sir.”**

 

“Are you clear?”

 

 **“Almost,”** Stackhouse answered.  **“We’re laying the final charges now.”**

 

“We’re going to need a diversion.  We need to make some noise top side.”

 

**“Yes, sir.”**

 

“If Rodney can’t get that door open, put up enough C4 to blow a hole in the door and blow in it on my signal.” John told Ford, eyes shifting from his mate to the detector.  “I should be able to find the Colonel with this . . . there aren’t that many Wraith around. I should be able to do this—”

 

“John, what do you think—” Rodney started to protest but John ignored him, still talking to Ford.

 

“If I’m not back in twenty minutes blow the charge and get these people out of here.”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

“John!”

 

“Twenty minutes and I’ll be back,” John narrowed his gaze at his mate, passing the promise and a myriad of emotions to his mate.  “You guys get your part done and I’ll be back, with the Colonel, in twenty minutes.”  Before Rodney or Ford could protest he was off, moving down the hall.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finding the room where Colonel Sumner was being held captive didn’t take very long at all, in fact it was ridiculously easy thanks to Rodney’s modifications.  The only problem was that John was on the level _above_ the room where the Colonel was being interrogated by the first female Wraith that John had seen.  What tipped it over the edge for him was the rough male scream that echoed through the corridor.

 

When John reached the room overlooking the scene, his insides froze.  A female Wraith—or at least John guessed that she was female, based on comparing humans to these humanoid aliens—had Sumner on his knees, her hand pressed palm flat against his chest.  He was screaming, a horrible pain filled scream that churned John’s insides and chilled him to the bone.

 

“How many years must I take before you tell me what I want?” She hissed, her voice edged with a snake like accent—or what John assumed a snake would sound like if it could speak English.  “A dozen? Two dozen? _All_ of them?”

 

And that was when John realized it.  His commanding officer was no longer the strong, capable, middle-aged man he had been just hours ago when John had last seen him.  He had aged considerably, his hair whitened far past grey, wrinkles creasing his features, muscles wasting away before John’s eyes. Without a second thought John fired, hitting her in the back, right where her heart would be if she was human. He moved onto the guards, hitting them in much the same manner.

 

The guards fell, but the female remained standing, hand still pressed against Sumner’s chest.  It was then that John realized that the wounds on her back had healed almost completely and that Sumner—Sumner appeared so old that if John had to guess he had tipped over the physical age of one hundred if not older.

 

There was only one other option and it wasn’t one that John wanted to take.  Sumner met his eyes then, blazing blue gazing out from deep sockets of a withering body’s skull. He nodded once, asking for John to commit the ultimate act of mercy and the ultimate sin.   
  
It wasn’t just Sumner’s life he would be taking, but the life of his mate—Dr. Fraiser—back on Atlantis.  John was faced with the worst order and worst choice that a soldier or anyone would ever have to make.  In this case though, there really wasn’t a choice.  Even if Sumner survived it was unlikely the process could be reversed and he wouldn’t live long.  He knew what he was asking and John knew what he had to do.

 

In many ways this might be a kinder end, swifter at least, for both of them.

 

He fired a single shot, straight through the hand of the Wraith and into Colonel Sumner’s heart.  It was a shot he had been trained to do, but never had he been forced to use it against an ally before.  While he may not have gotten along with Sumner very well—he still wasn’t entirely sure what Sumner’s issue was—it still hurt him deeply to be forced to take such a drastic action.

 

The Wraith screamed with rage lifting her hand and turning it to stare at the torn flesh.  Sumner’s body fell, flopping limply to one side like a discarded piece of trash.  She turned and narrowed her eyes at him.

 

Before John could react he was hit with some sort of energy weapon, his whole body seizing and falling limply to the ground. The last thing he was cognizant of was a spike of panic through his bond with Rodney.

 

 

 

 

  
  
When John came to the first thing he felt was Rodney’s panic tearing at the edges of his consciousness, the second thing was pain as his back slammed into the edge of a table.  He groaned as his eyes adjusted, the shape of a masked Wraith, built like a professional body builder, loomed over him.  The female Wraith, with her long blood red hair approached him then, a scowl on her face showing off pointed ugly teeth.

 

“How’s the hand feeling?” he quipped wincing as the Wraith above him tightened his grip around his neck.

 

She lifted her hand, showing off the wound—a wound that was already nearly healed. Her grin widened, turning into a smirk.  “ _Much_ better.”

 

“Oh. Damn,” John mumbled and let his head fall back against the table.  The smell of rotting food hit his nostrils, making him slightly queasy.

 

The female hissed and reached out towards him, causing him to tense.  Instead of feeding off him, she grabbed the life signs detector from his pocket.

 

 “How did this come to you?” she asked a tremble in her voice, an emotion John couldn’t identify lining her words.

 

“I don’t remember,” he hedged, and sent a tendril of _lovecare_ towards his mate, along with an apology.  The knowledge that John had most likely signed their death warrant hung over his head and heavy in his heart.

 

Her eyes narrowed and she screeched at him, slamming her palm down against his chest.  He could feel something tear through the thin layer of his shirt, seeking his skin.  There was a faint rush of pain and then nothing.

 

Above him her eyes widened and then narrowed and she pressed her hand harder against him, a keening noise leaving her throat.

 

 “Anchored one! You are _Lantean!”_ She screeched, outraged, pulling her hand back.

 

At that moment a bullet tore through her and then another slammed into the faceplate of the drone holding him down when he turned to face the attacker.

 

John rolled away, off the table as Ford continued to fire at the Wraith.  He clicked the radio, glad that the Wraith hadn’t bothered to take it from him.  John clicked it on, practically shouting out an order, “Light it up!”

 

Almost immediately the building was rocked with explosions and the female screamed in outrage once again. John snagged the dead—at least he hoped it was dead—Wraith’s weapon, a long, pointed stunner of some type and charged at her.  He caught her by surprise, impaling her on it, watching as her clothing stained as she began to bleed out.

 

She slid off as he stepped back, landing next to Sumner’s body on the floor. Lying on the floor, she coughed, a dark almost bluish liquid flowing from her mouth.  “You don’t know what you have done, Lantean.  I am just a caretaker for those that sleep . . . when I die they will awaken.”  A morbid smile split her alien yet almost human face.  “And they will _destroy_ you. _All of them_.”

 

John turned back to Ford, taking in the young man’s nervous shuffling as his eyes scanned the room.  Before he could say anything a beeping from the table next to them forced his attention away.  It was the life signs detector; John picked it up eyes widening as he saw the rapidly increasing number of dots on the screen.

 

“Do you remember the way out?” John demanded, looking at the junior officer.

 

“Yes, sir.” Ford nodded, eyes dropping to the Colonel.

 

As much as it pained John to have to leave a fellow soldiers body behind when he knew that it would be impossible to come back for it, he knew there was no other choice.  Kneeling he wrapped his hands around his former CO’s dog tags and pulled them off, pocketing them to return to his mate, assuming she hadn’t already followed him onto Paradise.

 

He paused for just a brief second, eyes sliding shut as he let himself silently recite a prayer of grief—a single verse from the word that he’d memorized as a child.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

 

 

 

 

Dr. McKay froze mid comment about how horribly designed the alien system was, but the silence took a moment for Aiden to register.  As a young officer, Aiden had been trained to recognize the signs of trouble when viewing a mated pair.  It had been required for all officers, but especially important for those that yet to mate.  The course had been noticeably easer for those who had already bonded to their destined partner.

 

At twenty four Aiden had yet to find his mate and sometimes he regretted going into the military for that reason, wondering if he hadn’t missed his mate due to his life choices.  The one time he had voiced his concerns—to his cousin, Lara—he had been met with a hug and reassurance. 

 

 

 

_“As The Word says, ‘Its not an act that can be scheduled or rescheduled at will.  You will find your mate at God’s chosen time and you will be overcome with emotion.’” She had smiled at him, taking his hands in hers.  “Live your life, Aiden, you’ll find your mate on God’s time . . . it may be tomorrow or twenty years from now, you can’t know for sure, but it will happen. Have faith.”_

And he had, but even that faith had been tested greatly when Aiden had received the invitation to join Atlantis.  He had applied on a whim, along with his SGC gate team and the other soldiers he hung out with on a regular basis.  It hadn’t exactly been peer pressure, but he had wanted to know if he had what the SGC was looking for.  Apparently he had and he had been offered the position—joining the expedition as one of the few unmated soldiers going.

 

Aiden had hesitated upon receiving approval to join the expedition, an internal debate waging war within him.  Going would mean lessening his chances of finding his mate . . . but in the end he put his trust in God, praying for guidance.  In the end the decision had been simple; it was God’s plan for him to go to Atlantis.  He would trust in that plan and trust that he would not be left out from the joy of mating.

 

“Dr. McKay?” Aiden hissed towards his CO’s mate.  The doctor was utterly still, his body frozen and eyes staring straight ahead.  “Dr McKay!” He stepped forward and grasped McKay’s shoulder, shaking him roughly.

 

“John,”  McKay said simply, turning to Aiden.  “Something’s wrong.”

 

Aiden cursed inwardly and darted a look around. Moving back to the cell, he pulled out a pistol and handed it to Sergeant Bates along with the detonator.  “I’m going after the Colonels. Keep the Colonel’s orders.  Blow the door if you don’t hear from us and get these people out of here—get _McKay_ out of here.”

 

“Yes, sir,”  Sergeant Bates acknowledged the command for what it was.  If Shepard was in trouble or hurt it would be easier to get him out if he knew McKay was already on his way to safety.  And if he couldn’t get the Colonels out . . . then it wouldn’t matter anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Any progress?” Teyla asked, pitching her voice low, but loud enough for the man working on the Wraith tech t hear.

 

“Working.” Was the only response she got and she sighed, looking to Bates. 

 

“Who is he?”

 

Bate’s jaw tightened a little, the edge of his lips quirking as if he wasn’t sure what to think of the man as he glanced towards him.  “Dr. McKay, he’s a scientist and Colonel Sheppard mate—his _second_ mate.”

 

Teyla’s eyebrow lifted, wondering at the significance and why he made it sound as if having been in multiple relationships was disdainful.  Maybe it was for these people, after all they had lived in the luxury of a Wraith-free life for so long . . . their customs regarding relationships and children would likely be drastically different than those like the Athosians who made familial contracts in order to keep their numbers strong and to keep from breeding with people too closely related.

 

Suddenly, without warning, the door to the cell slid open, jamming a little as it attempted to suck the charges into the wall along with the bars.

 

“Ha!” McKay exclaimed, shooting a triumphant, but strained, grin over his shoulder at them. He began stowing his gear as they hurried.

 

“Can you repeat that process?” Bates demanded, motioning to the other cell just down the corridor.

 

“Of course!” McKay lifted his chin.  “Within a _fraction_ of the time.”

 

“Then perhaps you should do so,” Teyla stepped towards him.  “The Wraith will likely soon realize that we have escaped, if they are not already aware of the escape attempt.”

 

“Right.” He nodded and didn’t protest as Bates and another soldier took several of his weapons.

 

 

 

They met up with John and Ford on the way out and Rodney had never been more relieved and pleased to see his mate.  John barely spared him a glance, barking out orders and rushing everyone along.  Inwardly he felt the slide of John’s mental presence across his own, reassuring him that he was all right, pushing him to move and run faster.

 

Markham meant them at the edge of the tree line, providing cover fire as they all sprinted towards the Jumper.

 

“Everyone in! Markham—Stackhouse provide cover fire until we’re all inside and then close it up!”

 

“Yes, sir!”

 

It was a tight fit in the back, not enough seats for everyone and most of the soldiers remained standing as they lifted up.  Rodney took the seat behind John again, glancing awkwardly at Teyla who had come into the front area and was standing, watching as John took off. 

 

“You did not say you had ships,” Teyla said, her voice full of emotion.

 

“Yeah, well it was kind of a surprise for us as well,” John replied as he cloaked the ship and began a rapid ascent to the atmosphere.  “Sheppard to Lorne, do you copy?”

 

**“Lorne here.  You better hurry sir, we’ve got darts piling up around the gate up here . . . it’s going to take some fancy flying to slip through. Good news, though, these ships have _drones_.”**

“Really,” John thought about the small, yellow squid-like weapons and a new display popped up on the HUD. “Well, that should definitely help.”

 

The puddle jumpers were fast and, considering there odd shape, extremely maneuverable. The Darts, however, seemed designed to outfly them.  There were at least a dozen darts surrounding the gate by the time they reached orbit, placed in order to block any access to the gate.

 

“Got any good ideas?” John commented, not singling a single person out.

 

“Where’s Major Lorne located?” Rodney asked, eying the display as a HUD appeared to label each vessel, including the other puddle jumper where it was cloaked just behind and off to the side of the gate.

 

**“I can pick off at least two before the cloak drops completely.”**

“Those two?” John asked as two of the darts, ones nearest the gate lit up.  “Man I love this ship. We’ll take these.”

 

The rest of the symbols lit up and Rodney rolled his eyes. “ _John.”_

 

“I have a plan,” John defended himself, but let the jumper re-label them according to his _actual_ plan.

 

“Should we be going straight through to Atlantis?” Markham questioned from the back where he was helping bandage one of the Athosians.

 

“There’s an idea,” John looked up at Teyla. “Know any worlds that aren’t likely to have a lot of collateral damage if we cause a bit of a scene?”

 

She raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “I know of several abandoned worlds. We remember the addresses, even after the people are long gone to honor their life.”

 

“Well,” John let wry grin settle onto his features.  “How much honor would some dead Wraith be worth?”

 

“Depends on the world,” Teyla replied honestly. Some worlds had prized the idea of the end of the Wraith more than others.  There were those who worshiped them, much like her people looked to the Ancestors.

 

“Pick your favorite and dial away,” John motioned to the dialer insent into the console beside him. 

 

Teyla stared at it for a brief moment, taking in the lines of the buttons and the symbols glowing lightly on the display.  The addresses of a half dozen worlds flit through her mind and the stories of the people who had once lived there.  The last of which, an address she knew of but had never dared to visit, had her hand itching to press the symbols deep into the cool surface.

 

Reaching her hand out, she let her fingers depress the first of seven symbols.  The people of Sateda would certainly be _honored_ by the deaths of Wraith soldiers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure about the last bit, but I'm not the best at fighter type combat scenes. There was another bit at the end here, originally, but I cut it to put at the beginning of the next part for reasons.
> 
> Next part is a few weeks away from posting, still. I hope you enjoy this until then!

**Author's Note:**

> My goal is to post one part a week, but depending on the editing of the final part that may push out a bit. I do promise that the final part will be done by the end of September, for what it's worth.


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